


Stand over me,

by Rea_Micheal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-17 09:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rea_Micheal/pseuds/Rea_Micheal
Summary: A talented school, where they met; where they last saw each other; where they thought they'd stay forever. They were separated for what did seem like forever, however, they have yet to find that they would bump into each other in the future, and their childish, lovesick antics would soon dispell again.Warning: I'm extending my research and writing across the entirety of the cannon fandom itself. I'm not only taking things from the show, but also from John Watson's blog, as well. Also, I'm bringing in actual historical events into it, too, so the audience can have an idea when this is taking place without a cliche date set, you know? I'm going all-in on this fic, I'm sorry. That's just how I am sometimes. So, I'm afraid, if you haven't read through John Watosn's blog, there are things you will miss, and you'll have to pay extreme attention to a major thing that will happen because it's actually historically accurate in the dates, as well.Also! There are a lot of triggering topics; If you don't like these things, I'm afraid this is not the fic for you. I'm sorry. Aside from that, I hope you all enjoy reading this, It took a lot of motivation, research, and confidence to keep up with and everything.





	1. Arriving errors,

The seventh of January. The number seven was always my favourite, for some reason. It was the seventh of January in which my acceptance letter to Baskerville Acadamy, for special, talented kids, arrived in the post. My father gave me a lashing, but mum drugged his beer for a good day's sleep and helped me pack to go. Mum was always too good for my father. She always said she met him when he was different, but there's no way that he, John Hamish Watson Sr, was ever different!

Stepping off of the platform at 08.23, twisting my body to wave at my mother for the last time as she stood there, teary-eyed, smiling as she waved back. I turned back around to climb the shallow steps and walk down the middle aisle of the train car. I found my seat and claimed the overhead compartment to it. I sat down and looked out the window. The train's horn blew, warning the unboarded passengers that the train would depart soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few minutes after departure from the platform, John heard a loud thump next to him, startling him to jump. John's head, and his attention, was snapped from the window's scenery to his right, where he faced a lanky figure dropping his trunk to the floor. 

"Excuse me!" John addressed, looking up. The figure only but glanced down as he was putting something of his own in John's compartment space. "Uh, pardon my anger, but that's my bloody trunk you just tossed, you sod!" John said, not too loud as to catch the entire train's attention, obviously suspicious of this person's intentions. 

"Calm down, Captain; I'll put it back." The voice was elegant, unlike the first impression John had gotten from the actions of the teen. 

"It's Doctor, and this is calm," John grumbled, regaining his posture and clearing his throat, only to earn a look of sarcasm from the figure.

It was true that John was an aspiring doctor, however, he wasn't accepted to the academy for his extensive knowledge of medicinal sciences. He was accepted for his deceiving physical records. Despite his short stature, John was a powerhouse, who was indeed also growing fond of the idea of going overseas to possibly be a soldier of some sorts. The problem was, John got frightened of the pressure he would be put under if he were on the front lines with the other forces. 

John never disclosed his future wishes, other than his medicinal studies, with anyone. No one knew of his plans to join the army, no one. John quickly dismissed the phrase as just that. 'He can't've known. I don't even know this kid...!' John thought as he let out an annoyed sigh. 

"Ah, but that's not what you've been accepted for. Was it, John?" He heard the snarky remark from the deep voice from above, making his heart-rate accelerate. 

'He's a stalker,' 'He's going to kill me,' and 'Did I know him in a past life, maybe?' His thoughts were going wild. So wild and fleeting, in fact, that he hadn't realised that the teenager had sat down across from him until he cleared his throat once more, pulling John from his panicking daze.

"I didn't know, so don't bother with that impossibly predictable question." He dismissed, and he rolled his eyes as John opened his mouth, unable to speak as he was expecting death. 

"Then, how...?" John trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows, as the boy cracked a smirk. 

"I saw it," He said, "You see, as I was strolling up from my previous seat, and saw you sitting alone, acceptance letter in hand, where I caught your name. Then, as I dropped your trunk in exchange for mine, I saw a 'Junior Reserved Officer Training Corpse,' pamphlet being used as a bookmark in a medicinal sciences textbook, then after you, so kindly, scolded me, I took a glance down to see, 'J-R,' and I put two and two together, efficiently," He explained. John was barely keeping up with what was being said. 

"There's no way..." John started again but trailed off in confusion --again. The boy continued. 

"But, as I sat down, just, now, I'm getting the distinct but very familiar smell of Cigarette smoke on your jacket, but not too potent for you to smoke."

"I've got to say, that scar across the palm of your left hand has me curious." The boy said, leaning forward to look more in-depth at the said scar. John's father cut him on the hand with the pocket knife John had snuck out of the house with to look cool in front of his mates as a preteen. John instinctively pulled his hand towards his chest, giving the teen a strange look, his furrowed brows growing deeper in suspicion.

Even though John wished desperately for his brain to will him to look away from the teen, his eyes were practically glued to his porcelain pale face clad with defined, chiselled cheekbones; the physical definition of the perfectly sculpted nose; the pair of blush pink, cupid's bow lips curling up to a smirk even still; and those eyes-what colour is that, even? Oceanic, heavenly, it needed a name, but it wasn't John's priority then --'Wait, what was I doing?' he asked himself as his eyes slightly widened, and he pulled himself from his daze. 

"What's your name?" John asked. The teen straightened up quickly and seemed to tense up. "It's William. William Sherlock Scott Holmes," the teen muttered, looking to the floor. 

"Wow, that's quite a name," John chuckled as his eyebrows went up in amusement. 

"It's usually just 'William,' but I don't know; it doesn't fit me, you know?" He pouted dejectedly. 

"Well, if it's William you want, it's William you'll get," John said brashly, making William sigh and roll his eyes, "However, I think that Sherlock is much more your style."

That was all they said as the train ride had proceeded. William was thinking in his seat across from John, who was looking out the window and admiring the moving scenery. John fell asleep as the time went along. When the train pulled up to their desired platform, John began to stir. When he opened his eyes, John saw that William was gone. There was no trace of the boy, no sound of his wake, John pulled his trunk from the carrier shelf and looked around as the other teens were bustling, pulling and trudging their trunks from the said shelves and out the door on the side of the train.

John looked around for William in the school's centre lobby, but there was no trace that the boy had even existed as John was pointed to his assigned dorm room.


	2. Not the perfect students,

John smiled at the faint memory, which had left him wondering, 'What happened to him?' 

"You have someone on your mind, Watson?" Another voice asked, pulling him from his gaze. 

"I-uh-was thinking of home is all, Sir." came the rushed and over-anxious answer spilt from John's mouth. 

"Please, answer quicker," His drill sergeant demanded sarcastically. John didn't understand why they had to answer to him when they were in the mess hall. It was a time for eating not for taking orders. John sighed as he sat back down, loosening up his tight an nervous aura around him from the situation. 

"Awww! Jonny's homesick!" Another soldier teased jokingly from across the table. 

"More like lovesick by the looks of that relaxed smile." The one sitting next to him said, and the others at the table laughed. John never really felt like he belonged like he was supposed to. The sergeant called him out on everything, everyone made fun of him for being an army doctor after having gone to such a prestigious college as a teen, and John didn't understand why. So what, he joined the army? So what, he wanted t to be a doctor, as well? So what, if every other night he lies awake wondering about the same blurred out, a gorgeous face he'd almost met with his own years ago? It was all in the past, and for al John knew, William could be dead, now. John'd found out about that poor boy's drug use, and he sadly assumed that the secretly sweet boy he once knew was no longer.

"Leave him alone, guys! He's not laughing." John heard as he turned to see a slightly chubby, pale young adult, whose face seemed to still look like that of an eighteen-year-old, who sat next to him. John smiled shyly as a silent thanks. "I'm Micheal Stamford; call me Mike." He said smoothly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John opened his dorm-room door with heavy discretion. He thought of it as a covert ops mission: 'Meet contact, get to know him, live under-cover as a normal student,' It's how he made the more boring activities and opportunities in life more worthwhile in his opinion. John looked at the room to see half of it was already decorated. Books already on the shelves, famous rugby and football players' posters on the wall, making John feel a bit insecure about the amount he brought, or the lack thereof. 

The first class of his first day, medicinal science. John sat in with the crowd, in the middle. He was tired from the somehow exhausting train ride, he didn't even feel like unpacking his things, so he just took a notebook, pencil, and highlighter from his trunk and walked to the classroom. It was designed like a university lecture room, which intimidated him a bit at first, however, as he walked in, he'd laid his eyes on what could possibly be the most beautiful young woman in all of creation. John carefully played his cards right, walking over to her and asking for a seat in her company. She giggled and nodded, smiling. 

" I'm John," he introduced, 

"I'm Irene," She said, her voice sweet as honey, and her face as pale and seemingly soft as porcelain. 

After the lecture, John walked Irene to her next class, since he didn't have another until two hours after. 

"I'll be seeing you in the mess hall, John no-name," Irene said as she giggled, making John remember he'd only given her his first name. 

"Oh! Uh, Watson. John Watson," He stammered. She rewarded John with a giggle and a simple kiss on the cheek. 

"Irene Adler," She purred as she leaned further in to reach John's ear, "It was very nice to meet you, John Watson." Irene swiftly pulled back and winked before she smiled and turned to enter the classroom. Even though he knew she couldn't hear him, John muttered, 

"Pleasure's all mine," as he slowly lifted a hand to his cheek, whilst allowing the dopiest grin to spread like butter on his face and a deep blush to creep up to his ears.

John walked back to his dorm and was a bit surprised to see his roommate anxiously tinkering with something on his desk. He quickly looked up, his somewhat greasy, unfortunately, straightened locks of hair jumping with him as he'd finally acknowledged John's sudden presence. 

"Oh, it's just you," The boy said as he went back to his work. 

"What're you working on?" John asked, genuinely curious about it. 

"A simple, 'hello, I'm (so-and-so), your new roommate,' would be fine for me, thanks." The boy said sarcastically. 

"Are all tinker-kids this moody?" John groaned under his breath as he walked across the floor to sit at his bed and take his shoes off. 

"One, I'm not a 'tinker-kid,'" He said, lifting his goggles and twisting his body s that he could wrap an arm around his chair, "And, two, from now on, take your shoes off at the door, please." He said with an annoyed smile. 

"Well, what are you, then? I mean, if not a tinker-kid, of course?" John asked as he carried his trainers over to the doormat on atop the carpet next to the doorframes and dropped them there, earning an annoyed glance from his roommate as he turned around and put his goggles on once more to continue working. 

"I'm an engineering scientist." He prompted. 

"Right, and if you're not as moody as I claimed to be, then why have you not introduced yourself to me first? Isn't it a bit hypocritical to-" John started but was cut off by the boy's voice shouting, 

"I already know about you! You utter fucking Imbecile!" causing John to jump. "I'm sorry, Sorry. Just, sometimes I get angry, and I start yelling." The boy quickly apologised, not looking John in the eye, which was good, because John was avoiding the eye contact as well. This kid reminded John of his father, and he didn't like it at all. "My name is Sebastian Moran. I specialize in weapon-smithing." He sighed as he brought his hand up to his said greasy hair and combed it back before letting the blonde locks fall futilely back into their rightful place on his forehead.

John had excused himself after they've exchanged pleasantries and wandered around, hopelessly in search of the mess hall. John had gotten lost quicker than expected. John found someone to ask for help from, however as the young lady was answering, John heard a scuffle behind him. John excused himself to go investigate. Around the corner was a group of students, not that massive, but not leaving any room, either, closing in on a student with pale skin and midnight mood, curly hair. It took John but a moment to register, and the only possibility that didn't seem as ludicrous as before was, 

"William?" John let slip. The boy quickly lifted his head and John could see the boy's eyes widened a bit out of slight shock. 

"Guys," on student warned as he kept glancing back at John. 

"Whatever, if he wants to fit in with the right crowd, he'll keep his mouth shut." The tougher one, nearest to William said, grabbing William up by his shirt and lifting his fist to wind back properly. John had no idea why, but he was frozen. He couldn't help but sit back and stare. John heavily flinched once the tough one's fist came down to connect with William's face. He flinched again, and again, and again. John could totally take these guys in a fight, so why didn't he? Why didn't John protect this boy, who was obviously helpless to the involuntary beatings he allowed himself to take like it were an evening cuppa. After the one-sided fight was finished with, John helped William to stand. 

"I don't need your pity," He said, his tongue sharpened with resentment over John's choice of abstinence. 

"Well, I don't pity you, I'm just helping you up is all. It's the least I could do after I just watched and didn't do anything." John said as he smiled, keeping his one hand on William's shoulder and the other was holding his. John glanced down and was surprised by his hesitance to let go. John quickly shook his hands off of William and cleared his throat. 

"So, uh, the mess hall's the first floor at the end of the 'D wing'," William explained, making the blonde boy, who was feeling the awkward silence begin to melt away. 

"But, how did you...?" John trailed off as his eyes locked with the curly-haired boy for a moment before looking away, a desperate attempt to not get lost in those oceanic eyes, which were piercing through him as if John weren't even there. 

"You weren't exactly the quietest when asking for directions," John's heart skipped a beat as he saw the smirk on William's face reappear. 

"Hey, you need to regain your strength," John made a point as he gestured to William's skinny, slim physique, but William seemed unimpressed, "Dinner?" John asked, jumping to the point.


	3. Astronomy Issues,

As the pair of students entered the Mess Hall, William was keeping his distance from John. John received his dinner and looked around for any sign of Irene. William sat at an empty table in the back, John couldn't find Irene, so he sat down with him. 

"What're you doing?" He asked as he narrowed his eyes towards this sitting boy. 

"What? I can't sit down?" John asked sarcastically as he sat anyway, despite William's rebuttal of, 

"Not next to me." John cocked an eyebrow. 

"And, why is that?" He asked, annoying William further. 

"Because nobody sits with me; nobody likes me. So, if you start to like me, you'll be a nobody, like me." He explained, straining his voice for the last part. John's smirk widened a bit. 

"Awe, you're trying to protect me; that's sweet." John laughed as William huffed out an angry breath and stole a few chips from John's tray as revenge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one of those nights in John's boot camp. He glanced out the window when they were shining their shoes and the glistening of the stars, mixing in with the other colours of the night, reminded John of him and his gorgeous eyes. John needed to know why those eyes are forever in his mind, staring at him whenever he closed his eyes, begging him not to leave as their foreheads met in an act of trust for their final few moments of contact. John blinked slowly, as did William. In every dream, since John has left for deployment, that moment was on replay. John knew it was a bit petty, that he was only overanalyzing that moment, and that William has probably moved on from that moment as soon as he left William's dorm that evening. William hadn't smiled at him through the window of the building when he left, unlike when he went on a holiday. It was just a cold, analytical stare. 

Those eyes were tonight. That cold stare right through him, John hated these nights as he usually stayed up on these nights, thinking of what could've been. 

"Shine those shoes, Watson! You're an army doctor, not a star-gazer!" His sergeant shouted as he'd been walking up and down the lines to examine the progress, and of course, Watson was always star-gazing, or dozing off, or falling asleep in lectures. John blamed it all on William subconsciously. If it weren't for him, John wouldn't have this problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while of messing with William and letting him take some of John's food for himself, John saw Irene. He didn't want to leave William, because he was actually starting to warm up to the kid how ever obnoxious people might think he is. To solve his dilemma, John waved his hand and called for Irene to come to him. Once Irene saw who was calling for her to accompany her to dinner, she quickly ran over to joyously sit next to John. When she turned to look at the kid sitting across from her friend, however, Irene wore an expression explaining that she was less than pleased. 

"John, why don't you come sit with us?" Irene asked, wanting to escape from William's presence. 

"I think I'm fine sitting here with William, thank you," John answered, smiling, hoping she understand his wishes to stay at this table. 

"Oh, no. I was about to go back to my dorm anyway; You should go, John." William butt in as John looked at him with the same caring smile. John's smile faded. 

"Really, are you feeling ill?" John asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

"Oh, I'm feeling quite well, but you're new here, and everyone wants to get to know you. You won't be doing much of that while you're here, I'm afraid. Plus, I need to study anyway." He replied insistently with a smile that seemed so ingenuine that it could've broken John's heart if they weren't in public. 

"Well, okay, I suppose," John said, tentatively standing up with his tray in his tray. Irene stood up with him and wrapped her arm around his to guide him through the crowded mess hall. John turned his head to look back at the table and nobody was there, again leaving John with the question of, 'Was he even there to begin with?' to pick at his brain for the rest of his meal at a table where he didn't feel like he belonged. 

After his dinner, John went back to his dorm, just to pop in to grab a textbook for his astronomy class, which was next. Sebastian grunted a greeting as John ran in and out of the dorm, not even looking up from the project he was still working on his desk. John wondered why he even needed his astronomy knowledge to become a doctor as he walked over the threshold into the lecture room to see the front half of it was made for lab experiments, which a familiar figure stood alone, methodically brushing his fingers on the different pieces of equipment. He sighed as more people came in and sat down in his seat. John decided not t bother William this time around since he looked a bit down. John didn't like seeing William like this. John didn't know why, but he just didn't like it.

The class started and John was surprised to see that William was making comments under his breath about how 'This class was useless,' 'Who cares if the sun explodes in a million years,' and 'It didn't matter if the Earth went around the Moon like a girl running 'round and 'round the garden like a teddy bear!' William just despised this course, and the professor despised him, there was no question about it. However, William shut his mouth as soon as the professor threatened to make him partner up for the upcoming projects as a result of his ignorance.

Five minutes after, William seemed to not care as much about partnering for the project as he made another insolent comment about how astronomy wasn't important. The Professor has had enough of him. 

He yelled, "You're partnering up!" To which William responded with, 

"Do it, old man! I don't care!" And as the rest of the class went with their partners to the library to do research, as instructed by the professor, John lingered in the lecture room, pretending to be picking up some things to stick around and overhear the conversation. 

"And, you'll be changing your project, so anything you hand me of your old one will be voided!" He shouted, making William laugh sarcastically. 

"Oh, this is rich! What'll it be, then?" The boy shouted back, throwing his hands up only to slap them back to his sides. 

"You'll do a two-student project on how the knowledge of astronomy can be used in important situations! Good luck finding a partner, Holmes!" The professor said, shutting his folder of papers he had on his podium. 

"I can be his partner!" John said, standing up without thinking about his words. 

"Oh, who are you?" He asked. John walked down the steps. 

"I'm John Watson, the new student." John introduced. The professor checked his roster to make sure that John was on the list. 

"Oh, John H. Watson Jr," He read out, 

"Yes, I suppose. Since you're new, you're lucky, Holmes, I'll have to allow another week on your project." The man sighed as he gave a short, cold glare to William, then warmly smiled as he looked at John. 

"Don't let me down, Jr."

As John and William were walking out, William turned to John and asked, "What's the H. for?" 

"No,"


	4. What Happened?

As the pair stopped in the hallway outside of the lecture room, John saw Irene, who looked at him and smiled but turned back to her friends. 

"And, this is the part when you leave me to go hit on Irene, who only wants to get into your trousers and dash," William said with a half-smirk on his face, however, he let it drop when John looked at him, disbelief in his voice when he said, 

"No, that's not it. She's starting to like me," He said, causing William to let out a laugh as he said, 

"You don't think he hasn't 'liked' anyone else, with a body like that?" John was beginning to get angry, no. Not angry, John wasn't angry, but he was frustrated, tired, and was being annoyed by William's mature antics. 

"C'mon, John. You can see it in the way she looks at anyone and everyone-at those girls, even." William insisted as he gestured to Irene with her friends. 

"Are you insisting that the girl that I like, is a lesbian, William?" John asked, almost reaching his breaking point, trying to breathe so that he didn't snap on his newfound friend. 

"I wasn't insisting it, John, I was insinuating it. Get it straight," William said, scoffing as he pushed his shoulder against John's as he walked past him. "I thought you'd be smarter than that, doctor," He laughed as he turned his head to spit those venomous words.

John snapped. He ran after William and tackled him. John rolled the taller boy over and, as he straddled the other, John swung a right-hook to William's nose, then pulled his hair to bash the back of it into the floor. A few punches later and John stood up, blinking around to regain his full consciousness, and as he looked down to see William's blood on his hands, John's eyes went wide. Even still, William narrowed his eyes as he tried to sit up, trying to analyze John's seemingly surprised expression. John looked fervently at Irene, who'd somehow walked up next to him when she put a hand on his shoulder. 

"John, let's go wash you up, huh?" She asked, voice soft like she was helping him through PTSD or something. Here's the thing: John did have PTSD, John was crying, looking at the blood on his hands and remembering what his father did to him and his mother every night and every day. His eyes flickered to William's face, which was all bloodied up, enough for someone to not notice that his nose had been broken within the first punch John swung. 

Irene opened the door to John's room, leading John to his bed, where she sat him down. Sebastian turned to yell at John to take his shoes off but was surprised when he saw John dazed in horror at his hands, which were covered in blood. 

"Holy shit, dude!? What happened?" He asked a bit too loud, and John flinched massively as he shouted, 

"I'm sorry," quickly lifting his arms to protect his head, accidentally getting some blood in his hair. 

"Dude, don't do that," Sebastian said gently as he slowly stood up to sit down next to John on the bed. Sebastian took John's hands and pulled them away from his face. "What happened?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John zoned out, thinking of William as he was looking at his bloodied hands again. 

"John!" He was pulled from his daze as he heard a raw scream over the background noise. "What happened, mate?!" The scream sounded half-concerned with John and more concerned with the body in front of him. John looked up and reached into his bag to pull out a syringe. 

"I'll give him a dose of morphine,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Irene came back with a pale of water and a couple washcloths, preparing to wash John. 

"Here we are, John," She said with a smile as she set it down in front of him. Irene looked up at Sebastian, who snatched the wet cloth from her hands, earning a confused and irritated look from her. She stayed for emotional support. That was until Sebastian told her she should leave. 

The next morning, Sebastian had classes, which he wrote on a note, which left John in the dorm alone to think about what he'd done when yesterday. John felt bad about hurting William, but sulking about it would only make the next meeting point that much more awkward. John got up and his head spun. He looked over the side of his bed to see the pale wasn't just half filled with bloody water. There was regurgitation in it, too. John understood, then, why he felt so hungry when he woke, however, he didn't want to get food. 

Irene knocked on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Watson, how're you holdin' up, mate?" Mike asked, knocking on the side of his cot with his boot. 

"What do you think, Mike!? It was my mental spacings that bloody killed a man!" John shouted as he lied on his side, facing away from his friend. "I killed a man," John muttered. 

"Have you eaten yet?" Mike asked, sitting on the edge of the cot. 

"I've tried," John said, reaching a hand up to point awkwardly behind him to a bucket with his regurgitated attempts at eating floating in twenty millilitres of water to dilute the acids. 

"Mate, I know you've done this deliberately." Mike sighed sadly as he stood himself up. "I hope you don't kill yourself over this; It's just a man, and this is a war, Watson. There'll be more." Mike said, obviously desensitized to the murders and the blood stains of people's hands haunting his dreams, that it almost sounded just like... him. John leaned back, turning his head to not yet meet eyes with his friend, but enough to get the man's attention. 

"How much more?" He asked. Mike smirked, almost madly, as he replied, 

"A lifetime's more,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John was sitting in the library, looking at books and articles in which astronomy was the solution. John may have attacked his partner, however, he still had a portion of the project to do. As he was doing so, John glanced up to see a computer and his eyes widened. He had only seen them on the telly. John tentatively stood up and slowly made his way to the information desk, where the librarian was there to greet him. 

"Hello, how may I help you?" She asked, smiling brightly as the job description required. 

"Yes, uh, are students allowed to use that?" John asked as he pointed to the computer behind him. 

"The computers? Oh, yeah. You can look up different educational articles on it, so we encourage the students to use them." She said, smiling as if she actually enjoyed the topic of conversation. 

"There's more than one?" John looked back to see the other one, which was blocked by a shelf of books from where he was sitting. John quickly turned back and brushed a hand through his hair. "Uh, I don't know if you're allowed to, or whatever, but uh, could you tell me how to work it?" John asked, feeling like an idiot as she chuckled.

After the librarian went over everything with John about how to use it and how it works, John scrambled back to grab the books he had on the table and walked back to the computer, where he brushed his fingers against the keys of the keyboard. John slowly typed, 'Astronomy articles,' and searched the internet for a response that he could refer to when he's writing his paper. He listed different articles on a painting which was painted in the sixteen-forties, however, many speculated it was a fake. 

"Hmmm. Interesting," John heard as he was looking at the painting on the low-quality computer screen and saw a reflection that wasn't his own. 

"Wha-!?" John shouted before he was cut off by William's voice again. 

"Hey, it's just me! Don't start swinging again." He said, grabbing a chair from the nearest table. 

"Why are you here?" John asked. 

"I thought this was a partnership." Willam smiled subtly. John took the time to notice a strip of bandage on the bridge of William's nose. 

"Did I...?" John asked, slowly reaching his hand as if he were to touch it, however, he had this sick feeling in his stomach and suddenly pulled away. "And yet you came back; why?" John asked as he looked down in shame. 

"Becuase I know that you didn't mean it," William said, placing a hand on John's shoulder. 

"So, what's this about the painting being fake?" William asked, whilst they were walking down the hallway, to an unknown place in particular. John opened his notebook and read aloud what he wrote. 

"Some speculate the painting's a fake because of some star that wasn't there before," John said, rolling his eyes, apparently sharing some of William's distaste with the subject of Astronomy. They entered a large yet emptied room, which turned out to be the Mess Hall. 

"William, I'm not hungry," John said as he looked up at the taller boy with the strip on his nose. 

"You've lost an unhealthy amount of weight since last night, John," He said, "You'll feel better once you've eaten, I swear it," William said un-steepling his hands from under his chin to look at the other boy. John sighed and handed William his notebook to go step into the almost completely vacant line for some food. 

"Okay, so," John said, as he sat down, slamming his tray to the table, making William jump a bit. "Sorry. I was just saying, once we make sure no one else has found an accurate claim as to why the painting's a fake, we should definitely prove it!" Sherlock opened his eyes to show an expression that didn't look amused. 

"What if it's not a fake, though? We'll have wasted our entire week and a half on a lead that fell through and we won't have any time working on our actual project," William warned with cold eyes, probably already calculating their moves. 

"We'll figure it out if we come to that," John said, picking up a breakfast sandwich, "First, I need to eat," John said before taking a big bite of the sandwich in his hands. "You can have some," John mumbled through his food, covering his mouth with his wrist as he pushed the tray with his elbow. 

They were done eating and John needed to get the rest of his studying supplies from his room, so they made a stop before the library again. 

"Is this my blood?" William asked as he gingerly looked into the pale to see that it was mixed with something else. 

"And, my vomit. Yes, sorry I haven't cleaned it up yet." John apologised as he reached inside of his trunk for his things. 

Sebastian arrived from his class and he was not pleased with who he saw. 

"Holmes," He said, his narrowing eyes staring daggers into William. "Moran," William returned, just as cold and calculated. "Let this semester be even more memorable than the last," Sebastian said, smirking. William squinted his eyes, furrowing his eyebrow in suspicion, however, was immediately pushed aside when John turned around and said, 

"Okay, I'm ready, but we can't stay long, I want to be there for the first day of hell week in Raider's," John said, smiling. Sebastian bid his roommate goodbye as he went to the back for a shower. "C'mon, let's go," John said, brushing past William as he exited his room. 

"Don't you think Sebastian is a bit off?" William asked as he looked back a final time to see an empty main room and hear the shower start to pour water out. 

"I dunno; He's weird to me, but so are you," John said, oblivious to what was going down in that room. 

"What do you mean, I'm weird?" William asked, furrowing his eyebrows again, catching up to John as he continued his steady pace, making John chuckle. 

"I dunno,"


	5. There's a first time for everything,

After researching for an hour and a half, It was time for John to get ready for Raider's hell-week. William looked up at his partner as he stood and stretched. 

"What? Already?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. John nodded as he yawned. William let out a pout. "Well, how long will it be?" William asked, closing John's notebook. 

"An hour and a half. Then, I'll need a shower when I get back, so make it about two hours." John said, pulling his shirt down to ensure he wasn't stomach-flashing William, once again feeling a bit insecure about his weight. 

"Stay here and find out more, then when I get back, we can discuss again," John said, starting to walk away. "Don't worry; It'll be fine," John reassured as he let a smile warm up to his face. It took William a bit to calculate, however, he nodded in agreement nonetheless.

John ran to the rugby field, where he knew the Raider's would be held. John could see a small group, with no one else heading there, making John worry that he'd been late for the first day. As he got there, the group of kids were standing there. One boy walked up and patted John's back. 

"You're going to regret running like that," He said, letting out a breath of laughter. "You'll need any amount of stamina you can make, mate." He then took his hand from John's back to shake John's hand with. "Bill Murray, mate," He introduced. 

"John," John breathed out, catching a gasp of air, "John Watson,"

Raider's was absolute HELL. John was almost too exhausted to get back to his room. As the leader of the group, and his future teacher in JROTC, Lieutenant Flood was wrapping up, John could only ponder what William's found out about the painting. However, John didn't even feel like talking to anyone. John dragged himself from the group as the Lt. called for him. 

"Watson, right?" He asked with a smile. 

"Yes, John Watson. That's me," John responded tiredly, struggling to lift his arm to acknowledge that he's been summoned. 

"Since you and Murray are in my class, all through hell-week, you are excused from attendance and all work will be exempted," Lt Flood said, and John was happy, he really was, however, he would be even more thankful if her were dismissed to walk back to his dorm, too. 

John trudged himself back to his dorm and took off his shoes at the door because he didn't want to be yelled at by Sebastian, not again. John walked in, opened his trunk to take a night outfit, and walked into the bathroom. John was undressing as he pondered even further into the painting. 

Then, as John stepped into the shower and turned the water on, he felt his mind slip to the boy he'd partnered up with. As his hands traced over the skin of his neck and shoulder, John closed his eyes. His hands carefully slid down his arms as he thought of William's peculiar way of dressing in the most extreme formal attire John'd ever seen on a boy his age. John chuckled at the thought as he washed over his under-arms and upper-chest. John'd moved on to his lower-chest and upper-abdomen as he thought of William's hair. It looked so soft and so bouncy. John wanted to see if that boy's curls were even more active if he ran. John wondered how they felt. Were they soft? Was it silky smooth, or was it more of a fluffy feel? If John got his hands tangled in them, would each curl hug each of John's fingers like that jumper his mum made him pack? John let his hands trek lower as he thought of the boy's facial features. 

John abruptly switched the temperature as he found his thoughts turning down a darker, more satisfying turn that John didn't feel comfortable with. From hot to cold. He didn't want to think anymore. John quickly finished his shower and dried himself off without thinking of you-know-who, however, as John exited the bathroom, clad in only his pyjama trousers, still roughly towelling off his hair with one hand, holding his dirty clothes with the other, John found it more and more difficult to think of the boy, because he was standing at the door. 

"John, I sent a message to my brother, who said he can allow us to go to the museum tomorrow to look at the painting, and I've ruled out any other possible debunking from that online search you suggested," Willam said, smiling as he made his way past an annoyed Sebastian, standing guard against any Williams who dared try to intrude, "We got this!" He said, clasping John's newly emptied hand in his own two. John smiled as well, and they shared a victorious gaze into one another's eyes, but John turned away, fighting the somehow strong urge to lean closer to the taller boy. John cleared his throat as he pulled his hands from the hold to place them on his hips. 

"Hmm, that shouldn't be a problem with me. I mean, as long as-" John was going to remark, however, William cut his words off with his own, 

"You get back for Raider's, I know, John. So, is that a yes, then?" William asked, baring a nervous face. 

"I suppose, although, you mustn't complain about my complaining as I worked out for the first time in a long time, you see? And, I'm going to have a bit of pain tomorrow." John explained his condition, and William agreed a shade too quick for John's taste. John and William headed down for some lunch. 

"So, how did you send your brother a message, and get a response on the same day?" John readdressed that part on the topic because he was just curious. No telephone nor mobile worked that fast in John's household. 

"My Nokia 9000 Communicator," William said, holding the mobile up, then opening it up for John to see, 

"My brother gave it to me since he already has one of his own." He said casually. 

"But," John said, a bit dumbfounded, "Doesn't the Nokia 9000 Communicator come out in August?" John asked. William only nodded, then turned the mobile around for his own eyes to bask in the glory of the advanced technology. 

"My brother has a high paying job, that includes the economy of technology, so he was able to get it for me." He explained, then smiled. "Your brother must be the chancellor, then," John said half-jokingly. He said William's eyes narrow as if he'd been issued a challenge of some sort. "Not quite," He sucked through his teeth, 

"He's basically the British Government, but you didn't hear it from me," William said with a sly smile, as he quickly took a chip from John's tray, popped it into his mouth, and placed a finger to his mouth to jokingly tell John to keep quiet. 

Once again, Irene had pulled John away from Irene. They decided to hang out at Irene's dorm. Her roommate was out with a class, so they had an hour of awkwardly sitting around and doing nothing to do. That was until Irene mentioned how much her back hurt. 

"Yeah, lately, it's been hurting in the middle, but like, the sides, you know?" Irene said as she gestured to it. 

"Well, do you maybe want me to massage it; make it feel better and loosened?" John offered. Irene smiled sincerely as she nodded. She lied down on her stomach and pulled the bottom hem of her shirt up to cling to the back of her neck and wrap around the front of her shoulders. 

"Thank you, John. You have no idea how much this would help," Irene thanked genuinely.

John placed his hands gently on Irene's skin and began to press down more, into her muscles, yet still gentle, in a methodical and slow, circular motion. As soon as this connection was made, John heard a moan from Irene's mouth. 

"Ohh, yeah," She then gasped, seemingly embarrassed about her little slip-up. John chuckled, yet he couldn't help but want this to turn down a very dirty road. John massaged, sitting quietly on the edge of Irene's bed, twisting himself awkwardly as he reached across his body to reach Irene's, but it was worth the thought of something more happening between the two. 

"John," She moaned, ripping John from his mind, "Move up more, please," she asked. 

John looked at Irene's face to see that she was completely relaxed by the message John was giving her. 

"Your, uh, y-your bra," John stuttered, nervous about getting the wrong idea and getting in trouble.

"Eh, just unclip it," Irene said furrowing her eyebrows as she didn't feel any activity o her back anymore. 

"Uh, I sort of don't know how...?" John said. Irene quickly sat up. 

"Wait! You've never unclipped a bra before?!" She shouted. John shook his head, embarrassed at the confrontation. "So, this means you've never," Irene narrowed her eyes, "had sex before, either?" She asked, studying John's nervousness as he quickly shook his head, flustered and fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh, then this'll be fun!" Irene said, making John a bit nervous as she had a hint of a devious glint in her eyes.


	6. Punishment,

John and Bill Murray were mates since college, so to hear that he was transferring to John's company, made John ecstatic. Then, John could prove to Mike all of the college antics he hopped up to whilst he was there were true. John also needed to talk to Bill about something that had been bothering John for a long time running. 

"William Holmes?" Bill asked. "Uh, yeah, I remember him." He said as a laugh escaped his lungs. 

"Well, I still think about him," John said, making his daily rounds to administer medication to the patients in the infirmary tent. 

"Well, so do I, but I'm guessing you think about him more than I do as you asked to talk about this man privately," Bill said with a smirk creeping up on his face. 

"No! Well, yes. I mean, not excessively, just like, every other night, and in my spare time, you know?" John tried to explain as accurately as he could, but he couldn't find the right words for his feelings. 

"You know they say when you're thinking of someone excessively, it means they're thinking of you, too?" Bill said with a smirk as he patted John on the back and exited the tent. It left John feeling absolutely worse than before because he was given some kind of hope; some kind of spark to let him think they would meet again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John and Irene were getting very intimate very quickly, but his mind switched off a lot during the intercourse. Something was turning John off about this. John had no idea what, though. Irene had the perfect body for him. Beautiful breasts, widened hips, perfect curves. It was all wonderful, and it was all for John. However, something was wrong. John was still getting pleasure from the situation, and he still climaxed, no doubt about it, but he just didn't feel like there was a connection for some reason. John still liked her, it was just...

John was pulling out to remove the condom from himself when the door opened and there was a scream. An administrator ran up to the opened door to see John frozen out of fear over top of Irene, who had a shit-eating grin on her face. After they were both presentable, the administrator had them go down to the dean's office. The administrator followed closely behind as to monitor their behaviour. The information spread like a wildfire. 

"Why're you two in my office?" The dean asked. 

"I-I, uh, it must all be a misunderstanding, sir," John spat out. 

After the information was given to the dean, John found that that dorm wasn't Irene's, it was one of her enemies' dorms. Apparently, she'd set up the encounter to, therefore, ruin and soil that girl's sheets and stable mental standing. 

"I had absolutely no idea!" John shouted, his brain ceased to work, it seemed. 

"I thought it was Irene's dorm! Honest-to-God, mate!" John shouted, He was set on campus arrest and was issued for a detention every day for the remainder of that week. John was put out of the Dean's office before he could figure out what happened to Irene.

"Shit, William is going to be upset!" John muttered, knocking himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. 

"Be upset over...?" He heard next to him. John turned to see that William was right next to him, looking confused. "Oh, has someone debunked the painting!?" William asked, his eyebrows flying up in slight surprise at the thought. John and William continued to walk down the hallway.

"No, uh," John paused, taking a moment to correctly say what he wanted to. "I'm not allowed to go to that museum tomorrow, or anytime in the next two weeks," John muttered, scratching the back of his head. 

"What?" William said, causing John to look up and see the disappointed look on his face as he slowed his pace to a hesitant stop. 

"I, uh, I got in trouble, and I'm on campus arrest for two weeks, as well as having detention for the rest of this week," John said, basically sinking into his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next battle was even more gruesome. More and more men died, more and more Medics refused to work out of fear, but John was there to be a medic. He couldn't let a couple ricocheting bullets near him get in the way. This was his job; this is what he's wanted to do since he was a boy. 

"Watson!" He heard someone shout. John turned around to catch a gun, which Mike tossed towards him. 

"They said if I can capture this point, I can get discharged," He said, looking over the trench's wall to look across the battlefield to the point he was talking about, 

"Gather as many men who are still alive as you can and meet back here; I'll do the same, mate," Mike said. John nodded and watched as Mike awkwardly walked away to go find mates to help him capture the point. John took a peek and swallowed hard as he saw how many guns were sticking from the trenches. John saw that some of the sand was lifted like there was something under a layer of sand. 'Mines,' John thought as he narrowed his eyes in a suspicious manner. John went to look for soldiers suitable for battle. Most of them weren't. It was either, they had died from neglectful medics or from medical malpractice in general. 

John found a medic and told him there were men who needed his help, but he refused to go to work. 

"Hey!" John shouted, grabbing the man by the shoulders, "Look, I know this sucks, It bloody sucks ballocks, mate! How do you think they fuckin' feel though?! Stop being so bloody selfish and fuckin' do your bloody job, you puff!" John pushed him back as he let go, and the guy sucked it up and went back to work. John continued searching. 

Once he found a considerable amount of people to join their crusade-like idea, John headed towards the meet-up spot, where he found Mike with some other guys. 

"This was all I could find," John said, feeling insecure about his persuasion skills as Mike had more people than him. 

"That's fine, mate," Mike reassured, "This is perfect," John and his group mixed and mingled with Mike's group. Then, the group was given the briefing from John and Mike. 

"There are land-mines right outside, so be really careful about it," John warned. "The last thing we need is someone panicking and tripping and triggering one of them."

John and Mike lead the attack, charging in first, showing the rest of them where to step. John saw soldiers' helmets pop up, telling them the enemy was onto them. 

"Get ready, guys," John said. John saw some movements, he saw the guns sticking up from the top of their trenches moving, too. John held up his gun, barrel pointed to the enemy, and he took aim, as he ran. John was surprised to realise that for one of the first times since he's been on the battlefield, his hands became steady, unlike when he was in JROTC in college, nor when he was in boot camp, doing different drills and rundowns of scenarios. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John spent a long and unhappy week in and out of classes, working out, in the shower, in the Mess Hall, or in his room. John wasn't always alone when Sebastian was at a class or eating. William paid him visits, studying, arguing, working on the projects, hanging out, or wait. They argued. They argued a lot. They argued about the project. William felt like he was doing this project on his own. 

"Well, that's what you would've done if it weren't me, huh!?" John said on a Wednesday evening as John'd believed it to be true. William seemed to be pulling some kind of favouritism towards John. What John says sometimes and what he does, apparently left an impression on people that he was friendly to everyone now. People began to gravitate towards him within that week. William was being shown attention and he practically ran away from it. "Because you care for me way more than anyone else for some reason," John shouted. 

"Well, I certainly don't top the total pole, though, don't I?" 

John had to get out, so he grabbed his shoes and left the room, leaving William to stand there until he went after John once he realised how stupid and trivial the argument as over. John was sitting on a bleacher when it started to rain. 

"John," He heard William's voice, and saw him running to him, his cheeks flushed from the excessive energy and he was out of breath. 

"Christ, William!" He laughed as he lightly punched at the taller boy's shoulder. "Don't pass out on me, okay?" John was joking, but something in his eye told William that was a genuine concern. 

"Look, I-" William paused to find the right words, then he began to chuckle, "I've never admitted defeat before, but I can never win when I'm around you, Watson." William didn't mean it to sound like John was victimising him, however, that John was so stubborn that William had no choice but to give in. John patted the seat of the bleacher next to him and said, 

"And, whose fault is that?" William pouted for a second, but gave in once more and sighed as he sat next to John. 

"It's never your fault, John," William said, folding his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Willliam's damp curls clung to his forehead, showing John that they were in fact long enough to cover his eyes as the rain came down harder. 

"It's never yours either," John said, causing William to drop his gaze from the cumulonimbus clouds in the sky signifying rain to look at John as if nothing else was there but him.


	7. No Grass Today,

They sat there and they looked up at the sky again. John began getting confused. All of the school was talking about it, but William hadn't mentioned it once. 

"You don't know how I got into trouble, do you?" John asked. 

"There was speculation," was all William said. 

"Do you think it's true?" John asked nervously. William looked over at him, locked their eyes and dais, 

"It doesn't matter what I think, John; It matters what you can prove in court," William said. 

"Wow, what the hell? Who's going to court?" John said, actually sounding concerned. 

"I thought you were," William blinked, half-surprised, "Irene sexually abused you, right?" He asked. 

"That's what they're saying!" John shouted, laughing. "First, girls don't sexually abuse, William," John said, still coming down from his laughing fit to see that William's expression had changed. 

"I wouldn't be so sure, John," William said, gaining composure as he tried to act rationally. 

"Okay, whatever," John said, easily dismissing the suspicious behaviours William was putting out. "Second, you were right about Irene all along," John admitted. 

"John," William tired, but John continued, 

"After the incident, she hadn't talked to me, waved to me, nor even looked my way," John took a breath. 

"Sorry," William said, but was once again disregarded by John. 

"I can't believe that I turned into him over that. I should have just listened to you," John said, chuckling bitterly to himself. William stayed quiet after that and they shared a moment of comfortable silence.

"So, it was consensual, then?" Willam asked, clearing his throat, obviously uncomfortable with his own words. John only nodded. He tightened his lips as he felt his mouth growing drier by the moment. William nodded in agreement, then spoke up again to ask, "Did you, uh, you use a, uh...?" John understood what he meant, and he nodded along with muttering, 

"Yep, yeah," William nodded some more, then muttered, 

"That's good," He said, "you were, uh, pre-prepared...?" He ended with a higher pitch and John couldn't help but laugh. 

"Christ, William!" John shouted, still laughing. William had joined him. 

"What, this is more awkward to me than you," He assured. 

"Okay, good!" John said, then chuckled. William continued sincerely, 

"I'm just looking out for you; you're my... friend," William smiled as if only to himself. 

"Well, you're my friend, too, William."

"You don't mind if I smoke, right?" William asked when the rain cleared up some. 

"Not at all; you do you," John said, not thinking of looking over. 

"You want one?" William asked, nudging John's arm, "Nicotine free," William smiled as John looked over, confused. William took out a cigarette carton and opened it to pluck two hand-rolled cigarettes. 

"Uh, sure," John cracked a smile. 

"Need a light?" William asked, offering a lighter to John. 

"Uh, yeah," John said before he took the lighter and looked between the lighter and cigarette. 

"Here, I'll help," William said as he took the lighter and lit his cigarette before taking the cigarette out of John's hand. 

William carefully placed the cigarette in between John's lips and noted how soft they were when his thumb brushed against it, it seemed to John. William shielded the lighter with one hand as he lit it with the other, John leaned forward slightly to get the little fire to ignite on the end of his cigarette. John leaned back and inhaled, expecting the hit of a cigarette's smoke to invade his lungs, but it was different than what he smelled at home. William put his hands in his pockets and kept inhaling through his mouth and exhaling through his nose when John coughed up a cloud of smoke. 

"Careful, John," William warned casually as he slowly looked over to the coughing boy. John took the rolled up cigarette out of his mouth and inspected it.

"William," John said, 

"Hmm?" William mused as his eyes trained on the horizon again, 

"What is this?" John asked, holding his cigarette up. 

"Hmm?" William finally looked over at John and rolled his eyes. "It's a nicotine-free cigarette," He answered. John shook his head. 

"I didn't ask you what you call it; I'm asking what it actually is," John clarified, and William narrowed his eyes. 

"If you're asking instead of smoking, you already know," William said, nonchalantly taking the cigarette out of his mouth to french inhale the smoke. 

"William, this is illegal," John said, pointing to the object, 

"Oh, no! Well, I guess I should totally stop my entire day's plans to go turn myself in for possession," William said sarcastically as he blew out the smoke into John's face. 

"Isn't this addictive?!" John asked, suddenly concerned as he'd begun to taste the dry-mouth and thought it was a symptom of withdrawal. 

"Nope," William said, popping the sound with his lips. "You can't overdose on it, either," He informed. 

"How would you know?" John asked, raising a suspicious brow. William looked at him and said, 

"John, if there was an overdose point, then I would have found it years ago, trust me," John felt speechless at that point. "Look, if you don't want to calm down and not feel anxious, I'll take it back," William reached for the blunt, however, without even thinking, John moved it to him and away from William. William only smiled. "Good choice, Watson," He said, chuckling as he properly sat down next to John again. After a while of sitting there choking on small amounts of smoke, William said, 

"You're just wasting it," before he French inhaled his smoke once more, then huffed it out his nose finally. "Take the biggest breath in, and hold it for as long as you can; It's the best move for a rookie like you." John nodded as he followed William's advice but then choked on his smoke as it came out, thick and burning. "That a' boy," William chuckled as he patted on John's back. 

"How the hell do you do the dragon thing?" John asked after another one of William's French inhaling. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to weird you out," He apologised as he let the smoke through his mouth. 

"No! I think it's cool; girls might think it's hot; you never know," John said, laughing at the end. 

"Well, I'm certainly not trying to do that," William laughed as he hit again. 

"You don't have a girlfriend?" John asked before he took a hit. 

"Girlfriend, no," William said, focusing on the horizon as he did, "not really my area, to be honest." Which seemed to take John aback a bit. 

"S-so, then do you got a boyfriend...?" John asked, but seeing that William gave him a weird look, John added, "Which is fine, by the way," 

"I know it's fine," William responded quickly as he furrowed his eyebrows slightly. 

"So, you've got a boyfriend, then?" John asked, looking into William's eyes. 

"Um, John I'd like you to know that I consider myself married to my studies, so while I'm flattered by your-" He started, but John busted out laughing. 

"No, I-that's not," Joh struggled, "That's not what I meant; This isn't what I wanted!" He shouted over dramatically. 

"Oh, uh, sorry," They both laughed. 

Once the sun was set, and their blunts were inhaled to mere roaches, William decided he wanted to go inside. He threw his rolled-up blunt and stood up to go. John stood and felt an immediate head rush. 

"Holy shit, mate!" William turned at the bottom of the bleachers, then told John to sit down and to wait for William to help him, which John pouted, but he still did what he was told. John's body felt really heavy. "Gravity doesn't like me," John muttered as he zoned out whilst looking down at his feet. 

"No," William said, walking over to the side of the elevated bleacher to hold his arms out, "You're just high," John laughed as he leaned towards William, letting the taller boy guide him to the ground. As they stumbled towards the dorm buildings, they shared jokes that became inside only to them, they laughed, and they chilled, saying nothing for a while. 

"Hey, let's go to my dorm; Sebastian already doesn't like me. He'd go bloody mad if I chased after you after an argument, then bring you back as high as a kite." John agreed with a laugh and a nod. 

"Do you think Sebastian likes me?" John asked, "I may have left a bad impression the first day." John wore a sad expression, "And I don't think he'd care," William stopped in his tracks. 

 

"What, no. Sebastian thinks of you as his younger brother, John. He cares a great deal about you. Why do you think he tries to keep me from you?" William asked, chuckling, "He thinks I'm dangerous," William said with a devious smirk as he turned to continue walking. John could have sworn he saw a wink in William's eyes, but as William said, he was high as a kite.


	8. Turning out,

They approached William's dorm at the end of the hall.

"This is your dorm?" John asked as he walked in after William opened the door. 

"Yes, It's small and meant for only one person, so it's perfect," William said as he hung up his coat behind the door. William took off his vest and unbuttoned his collar-up shirt. John only took off his coat and shoes at the door. He sat down on William's bed next to him. 

"Surprisingly soft," John said as he bounced on it a couple of times. As William slipped his arms out of his shirt and was left with only a white tee, Sherlock lied on his back against the wall. John decided to use William as a pillow. He leaned back and laid his head on William's stomach, earning a laugh from the taller boy. 

"You're surprisingly comfortable, William," John said, sighing contently. 

"Ta, I guess," William questioned with a laugh. John nodded, causing William to laugh again. 

"Yes, William. Ta, indeed," John laughed.

John and William somehow got onto a talking tangent about their lives before they met. 

"I'd always been a bit different; people made fun of me, picked on me, and I had to hide from the girls from my school, but they always found me," William said as he absentmindedly brushed his hand through John's hair. 

"They told me I had to do things to them. I had to do things that I didn't want to do," William said as he tensed up, 

"But, they told me not to tell, or they'll beat me up." Then, William loosened up as he let out a breathy chuckle, "I don't know why I was scared, though; I've had tougher people beat me up before." 

"They didn't give you a choice, did they?" John asked, finally connecting the dots. "You had to do it; You were abused," John sighed out of disappointment in himself. 

"One day, however," William said, "They thought it would be a good idea to tell people that I initiated the events, that they were the victims. So, I was kicked out, and it was put onto my record," He said, "Now, I can't get a reasonable school to accept me without them asking about it, but in the end, they still denied me." 

"What about your family?" John asked, "Did they know; were you brave enough to tell them?" William stopped brushing through John's hair for a few seconds. 

"I tried," He said as he continued, earning a sharp intake of air through John's mouth. As John quickly relaxed, he mused, 

"I think you turned out fine, considering your past; I bet your family's proud of who you've become," John said. William had a tightening in his chest. John could feel him tense up. After a few moments of William probably trying to collect his words, John heard the shaky voice, unsteady yet sure of what to say, utter, 

"I think I'm still turning out,"

After a few moments more, William collected himself and asked John about his life. 

"Well," John started, "where do I start?" John laughed and William waited for the story to unfold. "I was born, April 14th, 1969. I grew up moving around a lot; most of my life was spent in Dublin, the Catholic part, so when we moved back into London, everyone noticed I had an Irish twinge to my accent, and they were ruthless with the teasing. They would call me, 'IRA Boy,' or shit like that. Nobody actually wanted to fight me, except for my dad. I would constantly try to spend the night out, doing anything but listen to them fight. He'd get physical quickly. That scar you'd asked about, on the train," John lifted his hand for William to look at, which he did. William gently grabbed John's hand and examined it. 

"Your dad is right handed, and cut you with a pocket knife...?" William said, trying to get the age of the scar by brushing his other hand up and down the new skin. 

"Yeah, five years ago. It was so deep that they said I needed stitches when it happened, but we didn't have the money for the co-pays for the appointments and things, so it healed improperly and they say it'll always be there," John said as he brushed his own hand through his hair as William was neglecting it. 

They lied there for longer than they thought they had, just listening to one another's breathing as John's left hand was on his stomach, his right hand was in William's as the taller boy slowly rubbed his thumb across the scar and brushed through John's hair once more. 

"You know what," John said, 

"Hmm?" William hummed again, 

"I think I really needed this, you know? It's just, the drama of our lives has caused us to end the day with a mixture of exhausted limbs and a restless mind, not yet satisfied with the events because we believe what the teachers in primary school taught us when they say, 'You can do anything,' and our minds want to do more, but we're limited to a system that knows more about us than we do by the age of nine. Yet, when we actually try to do something with ourselves it's hard because the government says we need this currency that we're letting define us, we're killing others of our own kind, to have more currency. Look at bank robberies with casualties, gang wars, drug smuggling business. Others do it so they can openly be free about who they believe in and how they believe in who they do. Like, everyone needs to just chill the fuck out, man!" John ranted as William sat and listened, and nodded, 

"People are afraid of change, John. They feel trapped if they can't control things the way they used to. It's all a matter of control; whoever controls all of whatever someone wants has the power, and to just strip them from it, leaves them suddenly feeling weak, so they'll resort to violence and whatever it takes to get that feeling of power back again. To feel important, like they should automatically belong. We'll do anything it takes to get what we love back." William chimed in. 

"Yo," John said, "We should be philosophy teachers!" They both laughed uncontrollably.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's unreal! I never would've pegged you as the stoner!" Murray said as they were talking. 

"Mate, it was a couple of times when I got really anxious," John said with a chuckle, looking at Murray as if he was an idiot. 

"Good job out there today, John," Mike said, sitting down for his last meal in the Army. 

"How does it feel? You'll be a free man when we wake up tomorrow," John said, smiling at his friend. 

"I've waited a long time for this. Once I get out, I'll propose to my girl." Mike said. 

"Don't let John, here, know; he's a Cassanova!" Murray said, laughing as he nudged John's shoulder. 

"Oh, really?" Mike smirked. 

"Only a bit," John said, returning Murray's smirk as he looked at Mike. 

"Yeah, his first week of Baskerville College; he shags some third year in another girl's dorm!" Murray said and began laughing. John joined in, only because he didn't want Mike to snap on Murray because he wasn't. 

"Yeah, I sure got it handed to me after," John continued. 

After supper, when they were finishing up on saying their farewells to Mike, Murray confronted John about something. 

"Hey, John. Do you remember how close you and Holmes were, right?" He asked, cautious of his words. 

"In college, yeah." John said, furrowing his eyebrows, "Why?" Murray took a minute to prepare himself for the upcoming statement. 

"Uh, there was speculation in college, and I never went into them or thought them true, but hearing as you still think of Holmes often, there was a talk of you two being abnormally close..." Murray trailed off, however, John wasn't completely following his drift, "People thought that you two were," Murray leaned in further, "intimate with one another," He whispered lowly as to ensure nobody's eavesdropping. 

"What!? No! That was never the case, Bill! You have got to believe me; I swear it!" John sputtered out, flustered at the thought of the two of them being in the slightest bit intimate between them.

"I believe you, John," Murray said with a convinced smile, "I just thought you should know, is all,"

John had thought about it several times, however, he couldn't change the past. If he could, John would've broken that barrier the morning after the night they shared. John was still very attracted to beautiful women, no doubt about it, however, the feeling still lingered within John. Sometimes it ruined his nights, and other times it made his nights. John was completely confused, but he wasn't going to tell Murray that. Nobody should know, not even William should learn of it.


	9. Mutualism at its finest,

William woke to a cold spot on his stomach, what used to be protected from the chill of his room by John's head, unconscious and blissfully calm. William opened his eyes to see John walking out of the bathroom, yawning as he stretched. 

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you," John said, ruffling his hair. 

"You're fine," William said, groggily as he checked on his mobile. 

"I still can't believe you have that phone, William," John said almost in awe. 

"Well, what can you do," William sighed as he saw a message from his brother finally link through. "Ugh, he can't get me into the museum after all," William said as he dropped the mobile back onto the hardwood flooring and finally actually looked at John. 

"Why are you wearing my clothes?" He asked, trying to pretend as if he didn't like it. 

"Oh, uh, mine smell of smoke, so I thought it better not to wear it to classes today." John excused, which he wasn't lying. He's technically no time to rush to his dorm and get changed. 

"And my cologne," William sighed as he went through his hair with his hand. "If you're going to be this high-maintenance, you'd might as well keep your own things in here," William said, smiling. His tone put it out as a sarcastic sentence, however, he'd genuinely wished that John would consider coming to hang out more often. 

John left for his classes, which were Maths, Medicinal Science, then A.P. Biology. John told William to meet him in the Library at noon. William noticed John'd left his coat from yesterday on the back of his door. 

"That boy," He chuckled as he let a hand comb through the front of his curls. "How'll he survive without me?" He asked himself, meaning for it to be a rhetorical question, however, he ended up pondering about it for a while. 

William gathered John's clothes from his dorm and took them to the laundry room, to get them washed. As William was unbundling the laundry and tossing the articles into the school washer, some boy approached him. 

"Hey, you're one of John's friends, yeah?" The boy asked. William turned around and decided to be nice as to maintain a high status with John. 

"Yes, and who're you, then?" William asked. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sebastian shut it, or should I tell the whole lot who you've gotten off with last night?" The boy said irritably as he was so frustrated with how much this young man was yapping about lies. 

"You know what, Holmes? You've been doing a lot of sorting on your plate, yet none of the food has gone in that loud, empty mouth of yours; I think as a fellow Uni student, I should hereby give you aide in that effort," The older boy said as he placed a hand on the back of the tall uni student's head and pushed it forward, causing the boy's face to smash into the almost perfectly sorted and separated food on his plate. The boy quickly reacted by pulling his head back up, food all on his face, leaving the food on his plate inseparable. "There you go, Sherlock. Isn't that just tasty?" Sebastian smiled as he saw Sherlock's sour facial expression. Sherlock wiped his face off as the lot around him laughed, then turned and said, 

"He slept with your girlfriend," quickly, scooped his messy plate up with his left hand, and as he turned to get up, he smashed the remainder of the food into Sebastian's face and dropped the plate in his lap. "Hmm, yes. I do believe the expression is, 'Revenge is sweet,' I thank you, Sebastian." He quipped, then leisurely walked off to his room. 

Sherlock hadn't gone by 'William' since college. John was right when he said 'Sherlock was much more his style,' because now Sherlock was confident with his name. He felt more in control with a queer name as Sherlock's. People thought he was smarter than him, then he'd prove it, and he'd gain respect, until he did his 'trick,' as Sebastian liked to call it. The thing that earned him lots of enemies and one mate in College, and primary school, had earned him loads more enemies and fewer mates in Uni. 

Sherlock got his punishment the next afternoon, though. Sherlock'd just gotten back from a class and Sebastian was there holding a new book Sherlock'd bought but not yet gotten the chance to read. Sherlock froze. There was another paper underneath the book Sebastian was holding. He wasn't reading the book itself. 

"You know, Sherlock. I've been doing research. It turns out it's not that hard to get ahold of a simple record," He said, dropping the book to the bed, holding the one thing that always held Sherlock back, "Multiple charges of possession of drugs, drug paraphernalia, public indecency under the influences, and what's this? A charge upon multiple occurrences of sexual abuse as a minor?" Sebastian teased, smirking as he waved it in Sherlock's face, which wore a face of terror. 

"Really, Sherlock? Or, should I say, William. I thought you were smarter than this," Sherlock couldn't believe it, he needed to not believe it. "And there was also something else around here, wasn't there?" Sebastian said, rummaging through the pages, trying to find what Sherlock already knew he was looking for, 

"No," He muttered. "Sebastian, you're not him; don't act like it," Sebastian looked up, 

"Oh, here it is. According to this, you were also mentioned in the confession of Sebastian Moran." Sherlock was walking before he had the time to think about it; before he even had a plan. When Sherlock had reached the boy, Sebastian was beginning to look frightened. "Admit it," He said, "Admit you were involved," 

"What?" Sherlock asked, blinking at this new accusation with a clueless manner. "Why do you think I was involved?" He asked, 

"Why else would Sebastian say that it was your fault," Sherlock gripped the front of Sebastian's shit and hed him close to his face as he snarled with a low and dangerous voice, 

"Just because he thought I've done something to influence his friend getting expelled, does not mean that I was the reason he snapped, got it!?" He shouted, startling Sebastian into a shocked silence. "Never again should I ever catch you trespassing in my room or you will be sorry," Sherlock demanded, asserting his territory to Sebastian, who nodded while averting eye contact. 'Did I truly scare him?' Sherlock thought as Sebastian got up, shoved the papers in Sherlock's chest, and scuttled off into the hallway, muttering, 

"Yeah, whatever, mate." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill Murray and William stood and talked to each other about pointless things; things that didn't matter; this didn't matter. John's clothes were done, so William stopped the conversation by grabbing folding John's clothes and leaving as if he didn't hear Bill still trying to get him to stop to finish his pointless little story. William returned t his flat and put John's clothes away in his own bureau. 

"There, just reassurance," William said, sounding satisfied with his work. "Now, something to do while John's in class," 

William quickly grabbed his mobile and went to the library. He went to the computers and looked up a lot of information on telescopes and star constellations. He was doing a lot. A lot more than John would've liked, but he steered the project in a wrong direction, so William was willing to put in all of the effort to get this good grade. 

By the time John arrived at the library, William was almost done the project and didn't want John to see the massive amount of work he'd accomplished. He'd want to ruin it. 

"Hey, I'm sorry to keep you waiting; how long were you here?" John asked, grabbing a chair to sit on as he put his books on the table. 

"Oh, not long," William said whilst closing the notebook with his notes and project work on it. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to do my homework for a bit. I really hope you don't mind," John said apologetically as he opened up his books and began with his own class's work. 

During the duration of John doing his work, William felt weird. John was there and working, but not with him. No interactions, no side-quips, not even a glance towards him. It was a bit infuriating, to be honest. William was used to John paying attention to what he did, every time they were in one another's presence. 

"John," William whispered, 

"Hmm?" He hummed, not even looking up, 

"John," William repeated, leaning towards John further. 

"I said, 'Hmm?' What is so important?" John said, slightly irritated at William's constant attempts at gaining his attention. 

"I'm bored," He said, making John more irritable. 

"Work on the project or something," John grumbled as he looked back at his book, 

"I finished it," William muttered out of boredom, rolling his eyes, yet he didn't think John was paying him any mind. He only nodded and hummed in response. William sighed and studied John from a reasonable distance.

William noticed John had a bruise on the back of his neck. "Was this your father's doing?" William asked as he poked the bruise. 

"William, I'm trying to do my homework," John started, 

"Which is only thirty-five percent of your class grade," William chimed in, 

"Which is important for reassuring that I get good grades, drill this knowledge into my head, and not fail," John continued, and so did William with a, 

"John, although I am not completely perfect with my memories; unlike me, you and many others, are worse off. I can move things out of my mind which don't help me. I think of it like boxes in an attic. I can move things out to make room for newer, more important information," William said, then furrowed his eyebrows as he tilted his head at John, "Why are you so obsessed with not failing? The worst they can do is send a letter in the post." John hesitated a moment as he averted his eye contact to the book yet he wasn't paying any attention to it before he muttered, 

"I don't want to fail because this is what I got for going away. What do you think he'll do if I come back with failing grades?"

William was quiet after that, going into his mind palace, he began thinking about John and what his situation must've been like at home. He said they've moved around a lot, but how would a man such as John's father adjust to multiple major changes in his lifestyle, accents, culture? His mother doesn't sound like much a drinker, and he himself was worried about addictive drug use, yet he wasn't worried if it were a cigarette addiction. So, even his mother must be a smoker, however, he doesn't completely condone it, judging the clothes he wore on the train smelled of smoke, yet none of his other items. How interesting, this boy is.


	10. I'll be needing Stitches,

It wasn't until they went to the Mess Hall for food that William remembered that he had John's coat and clean clothes in his room, and John was wearing his clothes, which looked really good on him, mind you. William was sitting at their table, waiting as John got lunch, and it wasn't until another boy shouldered him out of spite that he noticed he was staring at John. William rubbed his shoulder as John approached. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, sitting down and placing the tray on the table in front of him. 

"I'm fine; it's just a sore shoulder," William said, glaring at the table. 

"I should give it a look," John said. 

"So, you'll be spending the night again, then?" William asked, smirking up at John unconsciously. 

"You didn't mind last night; what's one more night?" John asked, carelessly tossing a tater-tot to his tall friend, who quickly swooped under to catch it in his mouth. John lightly cheered as he laughed, which made Wiliam smile. After William finished that tot, he let out a quick laugh. 

"One more night is one more morning for me in the laundry room, trying not to throw myself into the dryer whilst 'chatting' with Bill Murray again." 

After John and William had wondered back to John's room to get his things for that night and the next morning, William was waiting outside when Sebastian rounded the corner, causing William to sigh out of disappointment. Sebastian glared at William as he quickened his pace towards the taller boy. 

"What are you doing here? Going to chase my roommate away again?" He asked, a mean look on his face. 

"From you? Always," William said with a smirk. 

"Freak," Sebastian snarled as he pushed him into the wall next to the door on his way in. William waited patiently. Well, as patiently as one with a case of clinical Asperger's can be at this point. 

William heard yelling from the dorm room. It was mainly Sebastian who was shouting, William only heard John raise his voice a few times within the argument, which ended with John walking out of the room, face red with anger as he looked as though he wanted to punch something. 

"We have a weight-room downstairs, you know?" William said, John only nodded as he started for the staircase. 

John was letting steam off by using the weight-room equipment. 

"Hey, freak. Only be in here to use the equipment, not stare at your crushes." A voice from behind him snarled. 

"I'm waiting; my friend-" William started, however, the boy from behind wouldn't take no for an answer. He slapped William in the back of his head, causing his curls to fluff up into knots in the back. William sighed. 

"Friend?" He laughed, "Who in this entire country would want to be your friend?" The boy took a fistful of William's hair, "I don't want to see you back here, pervert puff!" The boy growled dangerously as he glared at William. Even though William didn't mentally feel scared, he felt his hands tremoring as his body unconsciously nodded. William stood up and looked back at John as he left the room. Of course, John didn't notice. William let him be. 

He was waiting at the end of the hall, scratching at his last injection point out of an anxious habit. He was having an attack. People who could've only glanced at him are depicted to stare, smirk, laugh, make cruel faces, and wince at William in his mentality. He was looking from side to side as there wasn't a corner to back into. William gave up on waiting for John and rushed back into his room to isolate himself. 

A half an hour later, William heard a knock on the door, but William didn't respond as he was in the bathroom. 

"It's me, John, and I'm coming in," John warned as he opened the door slowly to find the room empty and a mess. Things were strewn and thrown around. Things were broken and John saw a faint droplet trail of a dark red substance on the floor. 

"William," John called, "William, are you okay?" John must've been worried as he'd forced the door open to see William leaning over the sink with his right hand covering his right arm. "William!" John called as he rushed to William's side in an attempt at giving aid to his friend. 

"John," William said, sounding weak and feeble and his face was pale and cold like he was about to pass out or something. 

"Yes, William It's me. Let's sit you down." John gently led William to his bed through the mess. As William lied down, he looked at his friend and his eyes softened at the boy. "Wow, this is way deeper than just an abrasion," John winced as he lifted Willam's hand to look at the injury. "Hold it, put pressure," John said, then looked around for a cloth. John quickly opened the drawers until he reached in to pull out his 'reassurance' shirt from William's dresser. 

"John, no," William tried, 

"It's fine, William," John said, ripping the fabric and quickly tying it around William's forearm. William winced as John pulled on the cloth. "Too tight?" John asked. William shook his head. "Okay, let me just," John said as he walked over to his coat, dug inside of the breast pocket, and walked back with a small sewing starter-kit. William sat up as he knew what was going to come next.

John kneeled between William's knees and guided William's uninjured hand to his shoulder, and John held the boy's arm with a steady hand. 

"It's gonna hurt like hell," John warned. William nodded as John looked back down at the injury. John began to stitch William up. William squeezed John's shoulder to help compensate the pain with grit, however, William's not so sure if it actually helped. 

"Ahhh! John-!" William cried, then bit his lip to mask the noises. 

"I'm sorry, William, but it has to happen," John said calmly as he kept his eyes professionally trained onto what he was doing. 

After the last stitch was pulled and John tied, then bit the string off, John ripped anther section off his shirt and tied it around the stitched up area. 

"There, now, I'll redress the wound every day for two weeks, then we'll see what happens after that; It should be good to take the stitches out by then, but you never know," John stood briefly, then sat next to William. "Can I ask what happened?" John asked. William shook his head, then leaned his head on John's shoulder and stared at his wound. 

"Will it leave a scar?" He asked as he shifted his head to look up at John, tears in the corners of his eyes were still dripping down his face. 

"Yes, but it doesn't matter; All that anybody should care about when they see you is if you safe and warm and happy."

William looked at John, wanting to memorise every detail of that face, wanting to know how to make the boy smile every time. William thought, 'I hope you're safe and happy and warm right now, John,' He closed his eyes, 'because I know that I am,'


	11. Disadvantages,

The boys were in a row again. John didn't like the fact that William decided to finish the project without him having a say in it at all. 

"Well, it's not my fault your plan went downhill so fast," William said, buttoning his shirt up, "Look, we got an A on it, he seemed impressed, what more could you want?" He asked as he was fumbling with his tie. John bounded over to help him, much against William's struggles. 

"Look, I don't like academic dishonesty. I'm here to learn for myself, and it kinda hurt me that you thought I was useless and couldn't handle doing a paper project with you," John said, sighing as he focused on William's eyes. 

"I don't think you're useless, idiot," Willliam scoffed as he turned his face down to look at John, "If I thought you were useless, I wouldn't let you help me tie this useless tie," John snorted out of amusement at the comment he'd heard. 

"Why are you wearing a tie today?" John asked, finally finishing up as he looked up at William as he tightened the tie around William's neck. John reached his hands around William's neck to grab the back of his upright collar. John pulled it down, only glancing at William's collar so he could keep his eyes glued to William's. Once John was done, he let his hands slowly fall to William's chest, where they stayed until they were interrupted. 

"William, let's go!" There was a loud knocking at the door with a voice blaring from the outside. John jumped out of startlement. He blinked rapidly as he'd realised their faces were a bit closer than before. John took an anxious step back and looked at William with a smile. John quickly straightened William's tie before he could turn away from him. John softly nodded and looked up at William, but couldn't look him in the eye. William could probably guess what was going through John's mind: 'What would've happened if we weren't interrupted?' That was also because William himself was asking himself the same question.

Willliam opened the door to see his brother, Mycroft, standing there. "What took you so long?" Mycroft asked. He glanced back into the room before William had closed the door to see John standing there, hope fading from his eyes as he'd waved his friend goodbye, yet the boy didn't return it. "Why does that boy think you hate him?" He asked, scoffing at his younger brother. 

"He knows I don't hate him," William said as he walked. 

The two walked to the car outside and got in. The car started and began to drive off as William was on his way to his monthly therapy session. 

"Hello, William. How was your month?" She asked. 

"I'm fine; I spent my birthday at home like you said," William said with a bored expression on his face, however, the doctor knew better than that. 

"How's school?" She asked. William's eyes looked a bit panicked at first as if he'd been found out or something. 

"It's fine," He said, getting his heart rate under control, "It's fine, yeah," He repeated. 

"Last time, you said it was hell," She recalled, smirking, "And, now, it's just fine?" 

"Yeah," William quickly responded. 

"Well, what changed?" She asked She was taken aback as she saw a smile creep up on the boy's usually cold, methodical face. William tilted his head down to hide the smile without getting rid of it. He never wanted rid of this gravity-defying feeling in his gut. 

"There may be a person,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock liked to think of that feeling when he was down on his luck. When he was looking for a fix. He knew that John wouldn't approve, however, Sherlock didn't have John anymore, so he couldn't reinforce that feeling and replace that high with the high he got when he stuck the needle in his arms. 

Sherlock kept thinking about things hed say when and if he saw John again. He'd feel angry for letting him face Sebastian on his own. He'd be breathless out of shock. He'd laugh out of the irony. He'd probably start crying out of all of the things they'd left unsaid. Everything they'd left undone. They would be there, at that moment, together, just the two of them. In a world where the world wouldn't matter. 

Sherlock was brought to a moment he'd never lived before. It was like an alternate universe where they were in Sherlock's dorm back in College, lying on Sherlock's bed, the both of them, each with an earbud in one ear. Sherlock's younger-self looked over and smiled at John, who smiled charmingly back. Sherlock had willed himself to hold himself back in reality, but during his 'needle-dreams,' he was the opposite. He was confident, daring, strong-willed. However, this dream was a new one. He hadn't dreamt about John since he was in the hospital after he was shot. The younger Sherlock reached his hand to caress John's cheek, which John'd leaned into. Sherlock had caressed his friend's face before. In fact, it was the last day of John's college days, when he was being shipped off into the Army. Sherlock wanted that again, only he didn't want the heartache that came with it. The young, tall boy had leaned in, his face growing alarmingly close to John's. Sherlock urged it to happen, but before it would, Sherlock felt a bolt of a startling amount of electricity to the side of his abdomen, waking him with a start.

"Your family will be very disappointed," He could vaguely hear from above himself as he blinked his eyes open. 

"Hello, Mike,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's face it, Sir," The doctor said as she was consulting him after Sherlock told her about the new student having an interest in him, 

"William might have a crush." Mycroft was taken aback by that absurd statement. 

"A crush!?" He asked, shocked that anyone might have his brother interested in them. "No, this can't be so, ma'am," He denied. 

"Well, he shows all the indications of having a crush. William is turning normal. Congratulations," She smiled, but Mycroft didn't like that.

William returned to his dorm quickly, his face flushed from embarrassment and anger. John was sitting on the bed, reading a book when he saw his friend return so emotionally. 

"Hey, are you okay?" John dropped his book to quickly walk up to his distressed friend. 

"I'm fine," He said, "I'm perfectly fine," John didn't quite believe that, however, he knew to an extent how angry William can get when he's pushed to express himself, so John didn't want to cross an unnecessary line.


	12. Don't shake in Rehab,

"William, you've been... off," John stated as he was redressing his friend's arm, glancing up at the boy with worried eyes, "are you okay?" He asked. William looked at John, his one, only and best friend with his cold eyes that softened when they were in each other's company. 

"John, we've known each other for less than a month," William said, doing his best to suppress the smirk he felt as his chest tightened and his throat was beginning to close out of... That was the problem, William was in semi-perfect physical health-there should be no reason for him to be experiencing these strange symptoms, "you have no idea how, 'off,' I can be," He said. John frowned. 

"I'd like to say that I know you," John said, taking William back with his sad, yet hopeful tone of voice almost like he was asking permission to get to know William, "but I'm not going to push you, or pry into your life or past for you to open up. You have to do that for your own," 

One day, two weeks after John had removed the stitches, William went to the infirmary to see what his symptoms really were. "What're you here for, hun?" She asked and as William signed in, he thought about what it could be diagnosed as. 

"I'm allergic to someone," He sat down next to the desk.

"Someone?" The nurse asked as she let out a confused chuckle. Sherlock felt a slight blush across his face as he felt another involuntary smirk urge itself to William's face. "Hmmm," He answered as he let his head sternly nod. "And the symptoms?" She asked. 

"Well, when I'm around them, my chest feels tight and I find it hard to find my breath," William gestured to his chest with his hand, "My hands shake, my mind is blurred, and their laugh makes my ears ring." The nurse stopped writing things down after he mentioned his windedness. 

"Okay, I'm going to check your pupils and heart rate. I just need you to think about them," The woman leaned in and put her hand on William's face, manually opening his eyes wider, and her other on the side of his neck, measuring his heart rate as his mind began to remember John. His hair so blonde and soft, like sand on the loveliest beaches of Germany. William remembered how close they stood before he went to his last therapy appointment. They just looked at each other. William wouldn't have minded if they wasted the day like that, however, judging by the fact that they were physically closer together after than they were before, William deduced that if it had continued on, they would have only been doing that the entire day. 

William snapped himself out with a startled jump as his mind was moving into places they shouldn't have been going. His eyes were widened and looked shocked. 

"Hey, I'm talking to you," John said, walking after William as the taller boy ignored him. "What is wrong with you?" John shouted, increasingly angry by the time William reached his room. It was obvious the boy didn't want John around. So, John returned to his dorm, which had rarely happened for him in the past two weeks. Meanwhile, William took the nurse's advice and avoided John for the rest of the week. And, h, it was difficult. It was so difficult for William to not sit where John was sitting. It was difficult to not stop by John's door on the way to his own. It was difficult for William to not audibly scoff when he saw John get frustrated in the library.

William found it especially difficult to accept when he saw John gave up, sitting in with the Jocks like himself and not wasting his time sitting and waiting for William to return to him. He also found it remarkably difficult not to think about John and how much happier he seemed to be without William there to alienate him from the crowd. William found it difficult to sleep on nights where he'd think about it. John hadn't tried especially hard to reach out to the boy. 

William had ignored and avoided John for two and a half weeks. The boy felt worse and worse every day, reverting back to snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him. One day he'd been sent to the counsellor's office. 

"Hello, William," She said, as the tall teen sat in the chair. "Why are you acting out?" She asked. 

"I'm acting normal," He snarled. 

"So, you hanging out with a boy for a few weeks. That's you acting out?" She asked, chuckling. "I don't think so," She said, bitterly glaring at the boy. 

"John, come in," 

John entered the room and sat next to William. 

"Hello, William," He greeted with a smile. 

"Why are you smiling?" William asked as the slightest bit of anger rose up in his voice as if John was mocking him for having feelings for him. 

"Well, that's what friends do, They smile at their friends," John said, chuckling as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Yeah, does a friend ignore you and avoid you for two weeks straight?" William asked. The surprised and hurt expression John wore, tore William's heart. "No, John. Wait, I-" William began as John stood up and turned to the door. William stood as well. 

"What's up with you, Will? You've been acting different ever since that man came for you that day." John asked, turning to reveal his angered and confused face. 

"That was my brother," William said, letting a breath out as he looked down, "He's not the friendliest type either," John looked at him and said, 

"The Case is solved; We now know why you treat everyone around you like dirt," John shouted. 

"He didn't like the fact that we're friends, John," William retorted loudly, "He never knew anyone who took interest in me, so whenever someone did, he'd tell me to shake them off, or," The teen trailed off, not willing himself to look into John's eyes. 

"Or?" John asked, waiting impatiently for the rest of that sentence to be muttered from William's mouth, 

"Or, he'd have to intervene,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

William sat in the police station, waiting for someone to let him go after his list of drug charges had been served. 

"William Holmes," Someone from above said, clearing his throat. 

"Sherlock," The young man said, shaking the older man's hand, but he sat down, refusing to shake the other young man's hand. The other looked a bit cross about it. "Do forgive me. I don't shake with interns," Sherlock said with an amused smile.

They began to talk about pointless things such as Sherlock's record expungements and others. "And, you are required to attend a three-month rehabilitation programme," The officer said. "What!?" Sherlock shouted, 

"No, that won't happen," Sherlock denied. 

"Well, we're running you there ourselves, so I assume it is," The man said with a bitterly satisfied smile, "Lestrade will run the paperwork, and before you know it, you'll be out of the Yard and in a comfy bed in Rehab." The man widened his smile as the intern stood up to run said paperwork. 

They waited there and Sherlock couldn't take the silence anymore. "Um, may I share some insight?" He asked, causing the officer to raise an eyebrow, "The Carl Powers' case, considered cold four years ago," Sherlock started. 

"Oh, no. We've been getting spammed recently and we don't need another 'Carl Powers' solver,' kid," The officer said with an ironic chuckle. 

"Oh, no, Sir. They were all me," Sherlock said, a bit nervous considering the officer's words. 

"All 257 emails have been you telling us what we've missed about a murder that happened five years ago?" The officer asked, seemingly angered by this new information. 

"I'm guessing you're not made aware whet an 'IP address' is, Sir," Sherlock said, ducking his head in embarrassment. 

"Kid, you were only but in college when that murder happened," The officer scoffed as he leaned back in the chair. 

"And, I've only ever read those police reports. I couldn't find the evidence, the excerpts that I've included in my emails are direct quotes from the news, reports, and paper articles. Please, sir, if I could just get ahold of the clothes, photos of the crime scenes, his shoes, whatever, I can guarantee I can solve the case," 

"The police don't consult amateurs,"


	13. Three person party,

Sherlock had sat in a chair in the circle of people of all sorts. 

"Hello," Sherlock started when it was finally his turn to speak, "I'm Sherlock, but don't all greet me in unison, 'cause it's proper creepy," He said, and some laughed and some, greeted with different words which satisfied Sherlock. "I'm a heroin user," Sherlock said, "A frequent heroin user, so they shipped me to this shit-hole for three months until my brother can expunge my record." Sherlock finished. 

"And, what do you feel when you get your high, versus when you don't, Sherlock?" The man running the group asked, tilting his head a bit. 

"When I'm high, I think about what could have been, but when I'm not, I'm repeatedly reminded of what hadn't been," Sherlock said, looking down at his hands, which once run through John Watson's hair.

"I'm Harry," A woman said as she sat, her arms crossed, looking cross with everyone as she glared at everyone around the room, "I'm an alcoholic, and my wife is a bitch and sent me here,"

"Hello, Harry," droned the group. "You just left not too long ago, though. What happened?" The group's leader asked, concerned. 

"My brother's coming back soon and she wants me sober when we welcome the prick in with open arms," She snarled hatefully, "The kid's all fucked up from the war, and I don't want to deal with him!" She said, raising her voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William and John were friends again, just not as close as they were when they first met. However, they'd learned to grow even stronger and closer within the past half a semester, smoking blunts in fag tubes and getting high under the bleachers as to celebrate on different occasions. Then, they'd just sit and talk as they'd snack on different food items they'd sneak from the cafe of the school. They had their setups and they knew how to do it right. 

"John," William greeted under the bleachers as John was talking and loitering with Bill Murray from his JROTC class, "Fag?" He asked, pulling the case where he put the tubes in. 

"Why, certainly. What's the occasion?" John asked, smiling as he picked the disguised illicit drug from the fag case. 

" I guess I'm just feeling good today," William said, turning to offer Bill Murray one, tepidly quirking his eyebrows up to question silently. 

"Oh, uh. I didn't know you smoked," Bill said, hesitantly grabbing one for himself. John gave William a look, which he returned with his own smirk. 

"Not religiously, however, we do like to dabble in it a bit," John said, pulling the lighter from William's coat pocket to light his fag up. 

"Uh, could you for me?" Bill asked, nervously refusing to take the light from John. 

"It's your first fag?" John asked, smiling back at William, who returned his spiteful smirk as if to say, 'I told you so,' silently. 

"Don't make fun of me, okay?" Bill said, frowning at his friend, who turned back and motioned for Bill to put the fag in between his lips. John didn't lean in as close as Wiliam when he lit John's first one. 

"There," John said, letting out his breath of smoke. 

"Ta," Bill thanked.

There the three smoked, and Bill began to question the content of the fag tube, "Hey, guys," Bill said, "I'm feeling a bit dizzy; is this normal?" He asked, blinking. 

"Just sit, you'll feel a bit better," William advised. 

"Yeah, it's fine, It happens all the time," John reassured as he looked over at Bill. They all sat. 

"So, William," Bill said, "I didn't think you'd be this," Bill paused as he coughed after a rough hit. John patted his back with a chuckle, "chill. Like, you walked out on our conversation in the Laundry mat, and I thought you hated me," Bill laughed. 

"Oh, no, Bill," William said, French inhaling, as he did, "That was kind of a long day after a long night for us, so you'll have to forgive me. I was a bit agitated," He said, finally letting the smoke go from his breath. 

"Hey, I'm gonna do it," John said, attempting to French inhale and failing. William let out a laugh and slapped his knee. 

"John, you're an idiot," William said calming from his fit, "You don't take a bigger hit, you just have to control how much you release." 

They laughed. They laughed, joked, and made new inside jokes between the three of them, which William never thought he'd see the day he'd be sitting in the dirt under the bleachers late at night with two men smoking fake fags. 

"Uh, I'm hungry," Bill said, putting a hand over his stomach. Bill checked his watch, then sucked through his teeth, "ugh, the cafe's closed," He swore.

"How much do we have in the room?" John asked, looking at Willam, who was already calculating in his head, 

"Uh, well, I brought some things back this morning, afternoon, and before I came out, so there should be enough," William said. 

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked, flicking an ash to the ground. 

"Bill, we're gonna need to carefully stand up," John said, urging the carefulness he needed for this task. John slowly stood with help from William and they stood to wait for Bill as he stumbled up.

The trio tried their best to keep quiet as they made their way to William's room. "I'm getting in the shower," John said as he grabbed clothes from 'his' designated drawer and made his way to the bathroom, leaving William to pull all of the hidden foods out of the hiding spot. William got up and walked into the bathroom with an ecstatic smile soon after John had started the water. 

"John, it worked!" William shouted excitedly as he let out a cheerful laugh. "That's awesome, Will!" Bill heard from the bathroom, then a grunt. William rushed out with a shoulder of his shirt being wet. The tall teen sat down with the other, opened the bag he'd brought into the bathroom and offered some to Bill. He was too hungry to refuse. 

"You hugged?" Bill asked. 

"huh" William asked, his head popping up from stuffing his face with the food in the bag, "Oh -- yeah," He then shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, which for John and William, it wasn't uncommon for them to hug in triumph as Willam's experiments to preserve their food stash would often succeed. Bill silently nodded. 

John opened the door to the bathroom and William lifted the bag for John to take a handful of food. 

"Mmm," John groaned in delight. 

"I know, yeah," William replied, smirking as he took the bag back and offered more to a still hungry Bill. 

"You're a genius, Will," John practically sang as he ruffled a hand through his friend's curls. William ducked his head and chuckled. 

"Oh, you," He responded. John plopped himself onto William's bed and let out a sigh. 

"You wanna try the rest?" William offered. John had to pull himself up to a sitting position. 

"Yeah," John said, and moved to the floor with the both of his friends. 

Bill had to admit, he kind of felt a shade awkward that night, however, John looked the happiest he'd ever been, so Bill didn't feel all that excluded with John there to be the one bridge between the two students.


	14. Holiday in,

Sherlock sat in the common room, just being released from the Suicidal prevention group and waiting for the alcohol addiction group meetings, shaking from withdrawal, shuddering as the cold-sweats washed over him like second nature. 

"Here," He heard above him. 

"Huh," Sherlock let out softly as he did his best to straighten himself. 

"I mean, we're allowed to smoke, so here," It was Harry. She was holding a fag, not Sherlock's usual, however, he'd do anything to cope. Harry handed him a light and Sherlock quickly lit the fag, taking a sharp breath in, however, since he hasn't smoked fags before, he coughed most of the smoke up. 

"You've never smoked before?" Harry asked, laughing as she sat beside him. 

"Not actual fags, at least," Sherlock answered with a smirk. 

"It's Sherlock, right?" Harry asked, letting a smirk slip to her lips. 

"Yeah, Harry?" He asked, reaching his hand around to hand her the light. 

"Harriet, but yeah," 

"Allen, Castier, DeCadio, Holmes, Miller, Watson, and Zimmer," They heard from the other room. They both looked up simultaneously, "Drug tests; let's get it going, yeah?" The instructor reminded in a rushing tone. They both stood and walked to the bathrooms, along with a few others. 'Watson?' Sherlock repeated as he checked behind himself, 'Is John in here,' Sherlock immediately shook the somehow hopeful question from his mind. 'Why would he be here?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William went to therapy and talked about John and Bill. 

"You still haven't told me who your crush is," She said, hopeful that she'd get that information from the introverted boy. 

"You don't need to know," William said, sighing as he reclined back. 

"It's my job, Will," She said with a small chuckle. 

"That, is a misnomer, Ms Rebekah," The boy said, pointing towards her in slight disappointment. He leaned forward to lean his elbows onto his knees. William sighed. Ms Rebekah leaned forward to try and look at the boy's face.

"It's summer holiday, anyway. I'm here, whilst he's at home," William said, sighing. 

"he?" She asked, obviously surprised, quickly leaning away from the boy, practically slamming herself to the back of her chair. William realised what he'd said and his eyes widened. 

"Wha? No, I-I...!" He stuttered, "I didn't mean," 

"Caring is a disadvantage, William," Mycroft said as he entered the boy's bedroom. 

"Oh, won't you remind me once more; I don't think I heard you," William snarled from under his covers. 

"Don't sulk, William. It's not cute," Mycroft muttered. 

"Oh, boy! Now, we know why you don't have a girlfriend," The younger boy quickly uncovered himself as he sat up to make that remark, however, he plopped right back down and pulled the covers up again, letting out a loud, long, agonising groan. 

"What's all the groanin' for, boys?" Mrs Holmes asked as she walked up behind Mycroft. 

"Nothing!" 

"He's got a crush," They said simultaneously, however, their mum heard the older boy clearer than the younger one, who was muffled by the covers. 

"Oh, that's lovely, dear," She said, lovingly as she gently pushed Mycroft from the room and closed it to add the otherly privacy that she thought her son needed. She sat on the bed. "Who is it?" She asked sweetly.

William sat up and sighed. "You wouldn't want to know," He said, "It'll ruin your image of me," He ran a hand through the mop of messy curls. 

"Oh, my," She gasped lightly, "is it a teacher?" William's eyes went wide with horror, trying desperately to get rid of the mental image of him with any of his teachers, 

"Oh, my bloody hell, mum!!" He shouted in disgust, "Hell no!" He shrieked as he plopped himself to the bed once more, pulling a pillow over his face, "hsnmshn," He mumbled, hoping that nothing of harm would come from that, but his mum just lifted the pillow and asked him to repeat. William closed his eyes with a blush on his face. He took a deep breath and was finally ready to say it. "Okay, the person I like;" He started, but his bedroom door opened and they both looked to see William's father pop his head in. 

"Oi, I'm popping out to the off-license. William want anything?" He asked. 

"You ask me all the time," William sighed with an audible groan. 

"And, every time, I hope you'll accept," The man said, hopefully grinning at his of age son. 

"I succumb, I'll bum a pint or two," William admitted. 

"Really?"

While William was sitting at the table, drinking with his father as his mum was cooking dinner, he was pulled from thinking about John by his father's chipper voice. 

"What made you want a pint?" The man asked, looking over at his son. 

"Uh, things are complicated," William said, taking another swig of his alcoholic beverage, "I think I like someone at school," he muttered, causing his father to practically cough up a lung. 

"No kidding!" His father said with an unsure chuckle. 

"Yeah, but it's really, very complex," The boy said, sighing as he took another sip. 

"It's not a teacher, is it?" His father asked. 

"No," William laughed, as he was already buzzed and is conscious mind brought up that so far two of his most loved family members thought he had a cougar in the school, "Mum already asked that, and no," William chuckled, 

"Then, what's so complex about it?" Mr Holmes asked, smiling.

"It's not exactly 'socially acceptable,' though," Sherlock said with a quiet slur.

"You're still my son. It doesn't matter, in my opinion, who you're with," He said, shrugging as he took another sip, "as long as the person feels the same way and treats you right, I don't see why I should have a problem with whoever you like." 

William went to sleep that night satisfied. He felt like he didn't need to justify everything he did with an explanation. 

But, John, no.

He wasn't like William. He was more social, and probably one of the most Cassanova-like boy William had encountered in that school. 'Heh,' William thought as he let out a chuckle, 'figures, he's the only Cassanova I know, and I've inevitably fallen for him,' William climbed into a comfortable sleep-like state when he thought his last thought of the night, 'what will I do without him?'


	15. Skip the Pleasantries,

John was finally being discharged. He was so excited to get back to civilian life. He needed to know what not fighting for his life felt like. 

"You'll be assigned a therapist," The officer said. 

"What, sir, excuse me for being brash, but I don't need a therapist," John muttered. 

"John, I'm doing it because you remind me of my son; Don't mistake my kindness as pity, boy." His commander said with a stern voice that had a kind of softness to it. 

"Yes, sir," John muttered dejectedly. 

"Oi," The officer said, "When you find yourself a girl, marry her, and invite me to the wedding, okay?" He said. John nodded proudly as he held out a hand to shake, but the older man instead wrapped John in a hug and patted the younger man's back. "You stay outta trouble, yeah?" John didn't respond. He didn't want his commanding officer to hear him sob. That man was like a father to the john. More of a father to him than his actual father ever was, really.

John was on army penchant and looking for a place to stay. The first place he looked was his sister's flat. She was near central London where John wanted to be as it was a place that was chaotic and it felt like an unsuspecting home to him. John took a cab to Harry's house. He knocked on the door and Clara answered. 

"Hello," She asked. "Oh, uh," John must've got the addresses mixed up, but the woman who stood at the door was plenty attractive, 

"Hello. Uh, my name is John," John said, clearing his throat. Her eyes lit up at the mention of his name. 

"Honey, John's here!" She shouted with a smile. Harry walked up behind the brunette and kissed her cheek whilst looking out the door. 

"Oh, it's you," She said bitterly, "come in," She sighed as she groaned and turned back into the house, leading Clara with her. 

John felt unwanted there, so as soon as he'd gotten enough money to rent a flat for a month in London, he went. After that month, John heard a knock on his door. 

"Hello-?" John was cut off, however, by his sister's angry, balled-up fist to his face. 

"This is why I didn't want you to come back!" She screamed, her face red with loathing as she forced her way in. John backed up, panicking. 

"Woah, Harry. What the hell?" John asked, speedily forcing his arms up to defend himself from Harry's angry swings. 

"Fuck you, John! I hate you!" She shouted. 

"Harry, you're drunk," John said. 

"It's all your damn fault," She began with a scream, however, ended the shout with a sob as she turned her face to the floor, holding onto John's defending arms as if he was the only thing she had. John didn't want to anger his sister with any more of his speaking. Harry's legs soon gave out and John followed her down to ensure her a safe landing. 

After Harry's calmed some, John felt safe to start asking questions. "What happened?" John asked, carrying two cups of tea to the sitting room with a sandwich to help sober Harry up. 

"Clara doesn't like me anymore," She said, scoffing bitterly as her shaky hands clung to the cup, needing the warmth to remind her of the coldness in the room. 

"What do you mean? She married you! How can she just up and leave?" John asked, taken by surprise. Harry glared at her brother. 

"She didn't like how quickly you packed up and left," she said. Then, she chuckled, "Makes me think there might've been something happening behind my back," John's eyes widened. He quickly stood up, clearly offended. 

"How dare you!? You may not like the way you are, but that doesn't mean you can just accuse men of sleeping with your wife like that! She was very loyal to you, and very kind and caring towards you; more than you deserve!" John defended, then sighed. 

"What're you gonna do, Capt'n?" She questioned sarcastically with a bitter scoff before she took another sip and muttered into the cup, "shoot me?" 

"I'm going to get ready, I expect you to be gone when I get back, dammit," John angrily yelled, setting down is cuppa with a sternness to it; one that would make even Harry fall silent to his demand. John quickly limped into his bedroom. His barely-used bedroom. Often nights, he'd sit on the couch imitating his guarding post position, facing the door, waiting for nothing, whilst methodically fiddling with his gun. John shook the feeling of the wastefulness of his time as he got himself ready for the appointment he had with his therapist. John didn't even hear the door open or close, so he was surprised as he walked into his sitting room and saw it's been cleaned up, save for Harry's mobile with a note, sloppily written, tucked underneath of it. 

'Keep in touch, please...'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John opened the door to William's dorm and saw the boy asleep on the bed. John decided to get in the shower whilst his friend was sleeping. When John exited the bathroom, however, he saw William holding his recruitment papers, staring at them almost in disbelief. 

"Will," John said, causing the tall boy's head to snap up, revealing an expression of almost grief, "Hey, what's wrong?" John asked, hurrying to William's side, sitting next to him on the bed. 

"What do you deduce, John!?" William asked loudly as he quickly stood up and threw the papers at John. Once John saw them, his head snapped up. 

"William, did you really expect me to not go to the recruiters?" John asked. William's expression changed for the worse as John hadn't called him by his actual name since before the holiday. 

"John, you can't leave," William said, "you-you can't just leave like this," He said, pacing in front of the blonde boy. 

"Well, then, what was the point of even coming to this lousy school?" John asked, scoffing as he ran a hand through his sandy hair, "Was I just supposed to meet you and then, completely change my entire life plan to fit into yours?" John asked sarcastically, unaware that the boy pacing was breaking by his words. 

"John," William muttered, going unnoticed by the blonde boy, who was still fighting in an argument that wasn't happening anymore. "I mean, this is what I wanted since I was a kid, so I'm sorry if I don't just drop everything when you come calling for me, William!" John yelled. 

John was very surprised when William tackled him in a hug, causing John to fall back against the bed. 

"John," William said. It was apparent that the boy was sobbing on John's shoulder. John realised, if he left, William would have no one. No one would stick around his room and wait for him to come back from classes. No one would allow him to wait for them to get lunch then let him take things from their tray as John did. William was going to lose everything. John's expression softened as he brought his arms up to return the sudden show of affection. 

"Will," John uttered sadly, "I have to go," John said. 

They stood up and William hugged John again, properly, this time. William was going to take the chance. He would probably never see John again after he left, so it wasn't that much of a loss. William was going to kiss John Watson. 

"Hey," John said, snapping William out of his gaze, "I'll survive; I promise," John said, reaching his hand up to clear William's tears. William stayed quiet. He'd let his head give to one side, leaning himself into his friend's loving touch, closing his eyes as he was in a comforting state of mind. 

William tilted his head down and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to John's and he sighed. He let out all of the emotion through this one action. John began to move his thumb in a stroking movement on William's cheek. William brought his hand up to lazily-or depressingly-caress John's jawline. John took in a deep breath after a minute and let his hand drop to his side. William leaned back and let his hand fall, but catch itself in the crook between John's neck and shoulder. They looked at each other fondly as William was trying his best to gather his courage, unaware that John was secretly hoping he'd be able to gather the same courage himself. John looked down at his feet and smiled. He looked up and his infectious smile caught William in its web.

William removed his hand to allow John to quietly pack his clothes from William's bureau. John looked over his shoulder as he was about to close the door. William was frozen in fear of rejection, and John was waiting, wanting Willliam to make the first move, which unfortunately didn't happen. After the door closed, John lingered, his ear against the door to hear something. He wanted to hear something. He needed to hear something-anything. John heard footsteps toward the door, but he didn't move. William walked up to the door and pressed a hand to the wood, then pressed his forehead to it as well. 

"John," He said, sighing as he'd failed to find the courage to do something. William ignored the stuffiness in his nose and neglected the stray tear that ran down the boy's face, desperate for escape. William fell to his knees as the floodgates opened. John stood at the door, frozen with hope and fear. 

'Just say it,' John thought, 'please, Will, just say,' William took in a sharp breath and sighed it out as he muttered in defeat, 

"I love you,"


	16. It's ripping me apart,

John was quiet after he left. He went through the motions of the first day and even though he was drained of energy and exhausted beyond compare, John couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, even accidentally woke some people up. He couldn't get comfortable. William wasn't by his side. John's mind was constantly drifting back to that ever-repeating moment. He said it. John should be happy. The one he liked, liked him back, but he wasn't. The fact that William had said it out loud through his ever so apparent tears had somehow made it even that much worse for him. Now, his mind couldn't stop repeating and he'd more often than not, doze off and get scolded. 

Meanwhile, William was not doing well either. He wasn't aware that John had stuck around just to hear him say it, so William assumed his love unrequited. William started skipping class, not eating, smoking more often. One day a student approached him. 

"Hey, you're Watson's old friend, yeah?" They asked, their hood up, looking oh so suspicious. William nodded cautiously as the boy reached into his rucksack. 

"This one's free of charge," The student said, pulling out something wrapped in cloth, "but when you need more -- and, trust me, you will need more -- you'll need to pay me,"

William was hooked. He used to cover the pain of John leaving him. John only knew of the hash, although he still considered that as a drug. After the holiday, it took John a few months to start smoking again, although he wouldn't leave when William smoked, he actually seemed to enjoy the second-hand smoke in his lungs.

William was more active in the school again. He went to lectures more regularly and he even tried to eat sometimes. He was back to normal before John Watson entered his life. Of course, William still thought of the blonde boy often, he'd frequently try to block the memories from his head. One fall midday, William was walking from class to class, fag in hand, headset bocking his hearing out with Paul Inka's 'put your head on my shoulder,' humming along to it, moving his fingers to what position they'd need to be to play it on the violin. Unfortunately, William didn't hear all of the kids running through the halls in a panicked frenzy, screaming, but as soon as the second shot fired, William was bumped in the shoulder by a passerby, fleeing from the scene, knocking his headset from his left ear. The screams startled William. They were so loud. William turned around and was frozen in fear. His face was of pure hatred. 

"No," William murmured under his breath as he weakly shook his head, matching his plea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After he was done with his rehabilitation process, Harry gave him her number, but Sherlock didn't feel right to call her. Surely she'd forgotten about him as soon as he got out. Sherlock had gotten a listing of differently available flats for rent. He'd checked out a few, however, one had caught Sherlock's attention. 

"After moving here, it was very difficult for me to get started with a history like mine," The old woman said sweetly. 

"What would you do if I said I can make it, him, them, disappear?" Sherlock asked, reading her ex-husband's drug trafficking in her hip and wrists. She gasped, but she couldn't get out another word since Sherlock'd made his way past her into the block of flats. He pulled out his phone to look something up. He'd then, called someone. 

"Hello?" There was a husky voice on the other end. 

"Lestrade, yes?" Sherlock asked. 

"Who the hell-?" The man was cut off by Sherlock's voice, running like those kids all those years back. 

"The man who will 'help you,' break the Hudson drug ring. Now, shut up and let me do your work," Sherlock said.

And, they've done it. They actually broke the drug ring, mainly with Sherlock's help to point them in the right direction. The night they broke it was a rough one. Sherlock was calling Lestrade whilst running after the leader, James Hudson. He'd been popping into town to transport the American drugs to London. Sherlock recognised him from one of his fix searches. He'd gone undercover and infiltrated a den, where James was. He'd bought the dope from James, however, he must've known about London's cracking down so he'd almost forced Sherlock to take it on the spot. James took a shot near Sherlock's foot when the taller man pulled out his dagger. Sherlock hopped back about a foot, letting James escape. Sherlock pushed James' people out of his way and began to chase after the man. They'd gone through the streets and Lestrade finally picked up. 

"Sherlock, where the hell are you!?" He heard the man yell through the phone. 

"Quickly block him off by Lauriston Gardens!" Sherlock shouted and hung up. Sherlock knew he had the upper hand of knowing these streets like the back of his hand. He also knew that Lestrade wouldn't let him down. They've known each other from uni. Lestrade knows Sherlock and where he injects, so he often knows that when Sherlock refuses to shake his hand, it's because Sherlock's high. 

"I look forward to the court case," Sherlock said as he let the police handcuff James from under his body weight. Sherlock stood up and walked over to Lestrade, who held out his hand. Sherlock gave a look to the officer as he sighed and hesitantly shook Lestrade's hand. 

"You'll do anything for the case, won't you?" Lestrade asked lowly, disappointed. 

"I almost died for this one; you should be thanking me," Sherlock snarled as he hailed a taxi. 

Since then, Sherlock began to move in, however, since the world revolved around how much money one has, Sherlock either had to find a real job or get a flatmate to help with expenses.

John, on the other hand, was living in boredom and depression. He'd begun to form suicidal ideations. John never thought he'd ever feel like this. He decided to take a break from guarding his painfully dull flat and go for a walk and get some fresh air. John limped to a park, where he was enjoying the emptiness, however, he heard someone from the bench stand up and call his name. John hoped they weren't addressing him, however, when they persisted with his last name, John couldn't ignore it. 

"Mike Stamford," The man said, shaking John's hand. John looked him up and down, glad that post-war life hadn't done that to him yet. 

Mike bought them both coffee at a nearby cafe, then they returned to the park bench to talk. They talked about their expenses since the army. Mike asked about Harry, but John just scoffed bitterly. 

"You could try a flat share," Mike suggested and John replied with another bitter scoff as he took another sip of his coffee. 

"Come on," John said, "Who would want me as a flatmate?" John said. 

"You know, you're the second person to say that to me today," Mike said with a smile. John furrowed his eyebrows and his lips tightened. 

"Who was the first?"


	17. Your cross to bear,

Sherlock had been working in the mortuary for the past couple of hours and had just gotten to the most crucial part of the case. The door opened and Mike held the door open wider whilst Sherlock was quickly writing something in his book. There was someone else who entered the room, he bore a cane from the sound of it. Sherlock glanced up after the second man muttered, 

"Bit different from my day," and even though it was supposed to only be a glance, Sherlock did a double take as he instantly recognised that voice. Sherlock's hand stopped in its tracks and he accidentally dropped his pencil to the ground, causing Mike to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Sherlock took in a breath and held it in as the man looked at him. 

"Uh, you d-dropped ou pencil," John said. He made his limping way over to Sherlock and crouched down to pick it up with a groan. Sherlock immediately snapped his head to glare at Mike, 

'What the hell!?' Sherlock mouthed. 

'Wait, what's going on?' Mike mouthed back, further furrowing his brows, knitting them together. John stood back up with a sigh and he stood closer to Sherlock than he could've ever hoped, looking into Sherlock's eyes with a smile. 

"Here," John said. Sherlock awkwardly tightened his lips and nodded as thanks, doing his best not to lose it in front of John like his body was screaming at him to do. John sensed the man was uncomfortable, so he backed up. He checked his phone, which was on the table, then sucked his teeth. 

"There's no bloody service," He groaned, then snapped his head to look at Mike, "Mike, may I borrow your phone?" He asked, agitated. John found out earlier that Mike had broken his phone this morning. Or, he dropped it and, 'the rocks broke it,' as Mike defended. 

"What's wrong with the landline," Mike asked, not bothering to look at the man. 

"Ah, I prefer to text," He let out a groan. John looked up and said, 

"Y-you can use mine," he offered, pulling out his phone. The man looked at Mike, and John could've sworn, he'd seen the man bite his lip a bit. He'd nevertheless stood up and walked slowly over to John and took the mobile he'd offered. 

"Thank you," He said, sliding the top half up to send the text. John just looked at him. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street," Sherlock said, winking as he clicked his tongue. He then exited the room to go and grab his riding crop. 

Molly tried to flirt with him once more. Just as he was about to give in to her superficial banter and throw her a bone for once, Mike decided to hurl him a prehistoric fossil. 

Sherlock stared at the riding crop for a minute or so, thinking about how wonderful it was to see John, but then he realised: 'I'd just winked at John Watson!?' He thought in panic. He quickly brought the riding crop to his side, causing it to make a whip sound as it cut through the air. 

As Sherlock was walking out of Bart's, He saw Mike seeing John off. John walked away, waving once more. Sherlock quickly and quietly peered around the corner and loudly hissed Mike's name. The man turned around. Sherlock beckoned him whilst keeping his eyes on John. 

"Yeah, mate?" Mike asked with a smile. 

"What the hell is wrong with you," Sherlock hissed, furrowing his eyebrows at the short, fat man. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mike clarified as he raised his brows in suspicion, "Do you know John?" Mike asked. 

"Do I know him," Sherlock chuckled as he looked back to check if John had left. Once the coast was clear, Sherlock gave a big, bear hug to Mike, surprising the man whilst shouting, "HOW COULD I FORGET HIM!?" Once he let Mike go, Sherlock saw that his brows were furrowed in confusion. 

"We were in college together," Sherlock said, with a smile on his face that Mike hadn't seen on that face since... Well, never! Mike's eyes popped open in realisation. "John's my best friend! Or, he was. Now, I don't know where he lies," Sherlock said, his fantasising smile faded and dropped to the grieving one that usually inhabited the face Mike usually saw. 

"You're 'William'!?" Mike shouted. Mike began to bounce up and down on is feet excitedly. 

"Wait, what?" Sherlock asked. He hadn't gone by that name since he was in college, os how does Mike know? Sherlock met Mike in the hospital after the shooting. Unless, "Are you joking," Sherlock asked, his face turning down in surprise, "John talked about me?" Sherlock asked. Mike nodded, 

"Only like, every day! Honestly, mate! He wouldn't --couldn't-- shut up about you," Mike shouted, then got strangely tepid for a moment. "Did you really have a crush on him?" Mike asked, snickering. Sherlock immediately felt his heart race and his face flush. 

"What!?"

Sherlock frustratedly entered his flat. "How dare he!?" Sherlock grumbled as he threw his mobile to the ground and made his way to the crowded couch area and cleared it off with an angry swipe of his hand. "He can't just talk about me like that!" He shouted as he pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket and began to fidget with it. Sherlock pulled his sleeve up and looked at his scar from all of those years ago and his heart began to throb. "He knew...?" Sherlock asked. "He knew, and he didn't do anything!" Sherlock shouted as he stabbed at the wall above the couch with the knife. 

John looked the man's name up and found a website. John'd read through it and he was confused. This man is really smart and extraordinary. John decided to write about it on the new blog he's being forced to write. John couldn't help but include the charm Sherlock had to him. John had to know more about the man he'd be living with because let's face it, John was not going to say no to whatever cost of living with Sherlock. John thought Sherlock's mind is brilliant, his eyes are beautiful, and the man was overall pleasant to be around, although John got that deja vu feeling like he'd met Sherlock before.

Once John clicked on a link for a news article, his heart wrenched with grief and loss for the boy that he called his friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Baskerville news reporting live. The shooting began not too long ago. Who is behind such a heinous crime?" The reporter said as they made their way behind a group of riot-geared officers into the school. They'd gone down the hallway to get close to the shooting area. 

"There is nothing like this in the records, so we're honestly unsure of what to do at this point s the kid is emotional and unpredictable." They said. down the hall stood John's old roommate, Sebastian Moran, holding the assaulting weapon, facing off with a frozen William, who lightly shook his head in something akin to fear and knowingness as if he knew who Sebastian was after. 

John watched in horror as the blonde teen angrily pointed his gun at William and without an accurate aim, he pulled the trigger, sending the bullet to tear through the flesh of the tell teen John'd loved way back when. John didn't know why, but he felt a kind of closure to know that William had passed on, but he only wished that it would've been more peaceful for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John wrote the rest of his insipid blog post, and people commented and came up with their mad, somehow half-correct accusations about John's sexuality. Honestly, John had no idea who he was. He loved William for half of his life, however, John's made himself quite convinced that he could learn to love this 'Sherlock,' fellow almost as much. If only the man swung that way, John thought. John looked at his mobile and saw the time. He figured that it was time to go to bed. 

The next morning, John's heart was beating so fast, he was convinced his heart was palpitating as he was walking up Baker street to see that right next to a cute little sandwich shoppe, there stood a black door with a strange knocker that hung under the address which was given to him with a wink of a beautiful man.

"Ah, John Watson," John turned as he heard the familiar voice of Sherlock to have his breath almost taken from his lungs as the man's eyes made his heart jump with joy like when he was in college with William. John smiled, painfully at the memory of his old friend, and brought his free hand up to shake it with Sherlock's, 

"M-mr Holmes," John stuttered as his name reminded John of William. John had thought about if they were the same person or not, but John honestly didn't want that to be so, because he may just cry, and this man doesn't deserve to see that mess. 

"Please, just Sherlock," The man said as he walked to the door and knocked with the strange knocker. He folded his hands and told John about the landlady, who only just so happened to open the door right then. 

"Sherlock, come in," The old woman cooed gesturing to both Sherlock and John, welcoming the men to the block of flats soon to be called home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the case with the awful cabbie, the two stopped for Chinese, and Sherlock guessed about John's scars, most of them from when he was in college, which even still haven't cleared up. 

"Ah," Sherlock sighed, stroking a hand over John's still apparent scar on the palm of his hand. 'It's still there,' he thought, half-relieved, half-angered that his father was the cause of a semi-permanent physical scar such as that. 

"Yeah," John said, then his face brightened up, "Tell me about it," He said,

"Well, you know this one; wasn't it quite traumatising?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head, urging Sherlock to start with the deductions. "Well, your father, right-handed, cut you with a pocket knife when you were in your preteens -- I don't quite remember, -- but you said you didn't have the insurance to pay for the co-pay, so it never healed right," Sherlock said, staring at the scarred tissue, unbeknownst to John's eyebrows furrowing in confused suspicion until he drew his hand back slowly. 

"I haven't told Mike," John said cautiously,

"Uh, okay," Sherlock said, not knowing what that had to do with anything.

"But, you said that I said it," John said, "meaning, I must've told you personally, but I don't remember," John trailed off as he saw Sherlock's facial expression change significantly. 

"So," Sherlock started, "you don't even remember me?" Sherlock felt his heart drop as if he would be sick like his heart had broken in half and was now aching for the medical attention he knew John could've provided. Well, he thought John would provide, at least. 

"I don't know anyone named Sherlock," John said, pushing back in his chair as if waiting for another reason for him to just bolt. The worse part is, Sherlock wouldn't have blamed him, "Sherlock is a pretty unique name; I would've definitely recalled," John said,

"No, John! It's me," Sherlock said, pulling up his sleeve, revealing the faint yet still present scar on his right forearm. 

"I-it's me; It's Willam,"


End file.
